The World's Shortest Hunger Games
by Tiny Bluebird
Summary: Paisley Waters, a 12 year old girl from District Eight has no chance in these Games. Living under a factory her whole life has less than prepared her for the fight of her life. But something Paisley does could end the 66th Hunger Games before they have even begun. . .
1. Darkness

_So welcome to my story! This is my second Hunger Games story and I hope you enjoy it! Although I wish to say differently I do not own Hunger Games and I did not create it. _

_Please drop me a review and tell me what you think! Thanks._

_**The Worlds Shortest Hunger Games**_

_**Chapter 1- Darkness**_

Opening my eyes doesn't take away the darkness of sleep, for no light makes its way through the cracks of the rotting wood sitting inches above me. If anything it's darker with my eyes open. Normally closing your eyes brings the most amount of black and darkness imaginable, sometimes It's haunting, but not for me. Because opening my eyes is just opening them to the dark world around me. The darkness of my District. Of my surroundings. Of my life. Everything's dark for me.

I close my eyes tight, so tight my ears begin to ring. I hope that some burst of light will form blackness of the back of my eyelids, but there is no such luck. I'm left with only black. Darkness scares me.

I call up into a ball on the dirt and grip onto the tattered, fleecy bit of material that serves as my blanket. Even though I can't see it now, I know the blanket is yellow. Sunshine yellow. The colour of light. Yellow is my favourite colour, it's so happy and bright, unlike me and everything that surrounds me.

It's funny in a way that the thought of a colour makes a tear form in my eye. But things like that get me emotional. Small things, meaningless things. Well, at least meaningless to others, but not to me.

The smallest things are what I treasure most, the tiny flutter of a butterfly's wing or a drop of water making ripples on the surface of a pond. Or the simple thing that everyone takes for granted- colour.

With the grey and black that surrounds me I can't help but drink up the brightness of colour. I rarely see it, so that's why I cling to this blanket like it's my life. It's the only form of colour I ever get to lay eyes on.

I relax my eyes and take in a deep breath. I have to prepare myself for today. Today's my first time. . . and I'm terrified.

I -with difficulty- manage to get myself sitting up. My head sits touching the wood above me and I have to bend my neck to sit in this tiny space. Then I reach up above me and push on a certain wooden plank, it moves upward creating a spot for me to climb out.

I squeeze through the hole, carrying my blanket behind me and resurface up on the dark wooden floor of a factory. The smell of shiny metal doesn't sit right against the scent of rotting wood. I can see the machines from here, even in this darkness the glint of metal shimmers.

The windows that sit high up on the walls of the factory and are covered by thick black sheets of material that act as curtains. During the night the curtains are closed making the whole factory to be consumed in total darkness but during the day, when this factory is bustling with District Eight workers the sheets are pulled back and the muted light of the sun shines through, brightly lighting the entire room.

I glace back down to the small gap in the ground that is the result of a loose plank. My home.

I still remember the day that I found that loose plank. I was carrying a large pile of dresses and couldn't see where I was walking. I stepped on what I thought was a sturdy floorboard, but soon I found myself falling through the floor and standing on the dirt of the underground of the factory.

Many people rushed to my assistance and pulled me from the hole I was stuck in, saying to each other that they must fix that plank immediately to avoid any accidents. But it never happened; no-one could afford to fix it so it became my home.

I have been living in under the factory for about 4 years now. I found the place when I was eight and I thought it was better than my home on the street where I was prone to attacking.

But why is a 12 year old girl homeless? Why would a community let a child live under a factory?

Well that's simple. District Eight doesn't care for anyone. It's the way things work around here. In Panam.

But there is a story behind it. Behind why I have no family and just thinking about it makes my eyes wet.

I was 4. And my parents died. I don't know what from but that didn't matter, they were dead all the same. It wouldn't matter if they died from disease or burnt to a crisp, the only thing that mattered was the fact they were dead. Somehow the authorities were never told about my parent's death. If they were I would have been shipped off to a community home, but family friends kept their deaths a secret. I never knew why.

I was looked after for 4 years by my mother's old best friend. She was kind and nice, but she was no replacement for my mother. Then she too died. So I had experienced a total of three deaths in eight short years of my life. It's a lot to take for someone so young. I hid when the peacekeepers came to take my replacement mother body. Peacekeepers scare me. And because they never knew I lived with the dead woman, I wasn't sent to a community home or an orphanage like I should have been.

So since the age of eight I have been looking after myself. I managed to survive on the food that District Eight offers to everyone. It's how it works here, you don't have lunch privately in your home where you have to work for the food you buy. Here everyone files into the town square at their designated times- organised by the Peacekeepers and is given a bowl of slime that is your only meal for the day. Any tesserae you take has to be given up to the Peacekeepers who store it and share it out to the town. It makes sure no one starves to death and delays the textiles production.

In some Districts you aren't required to work until you are eighteen. But in District Eight the second you have your eighth birthday you are assigned a job that you will work in for the rest of your life. We are a such a small District compared to District Two or Eleven. And we have such a big job. We have to make the clothes for all the Capitol, with their ever-changing fashions. So we are put to work young, so we can keep up with all the trends.

I was assigned a job in the dullest department. We make the base materials that are then shipped to other factories of Eight that dye and colour and bedazzle the material to make it beautiful. . . I was never as lucky to get a job that had so much colour.

Most people wouldn't be able to handle such trauma in the early years of their life. And unfortunately I am most people. Nearly every minute I spend crying. During working hours I normally curl up in a corner and leave the older people to do the work. I can't handle people.

So naturally when today I have to be standing amongst many people my age in a claustrophobic crowd where there's a chance I could be standing on a stage and being sent to death I am an emotional wreck. My whole body is shaking at the thought. I have trouble replacing the plank that conceals my home because of my shaking hands and my lip is trembling like crazy.

I stand myself up and tell myself to stop crying but it doesn't happen. I just have to accept the fact I will be tearing up in public. I inhale deeply and walk blindly through the darkness to the huge machine on one side of the factory with my yellow piece of material dragging on the ground behind me. I crawl behind it, dodging the places I know have electrical wires and plugs and find a certain wooden board.

I push my palm on the board and it creates a small crack just big enough for me to climb through. Light blinds my eyes as it floods through the slit I just formed. Yet, even with this brightness everything still feels dark.

I squeeze through the hole and end up standing at the back of the factory. No-one can see me from here so there is no danger of the authorities finding out about my home.

I take a deep breath and look around sadly. I'm standing in front of a large, solid, grey metal fence that surrounds the district. I look up and see the dull grey clouds that always cast themselves over District Eight. The sun even seems somewhat dull compared to my bright blanket. Then there's the sky that is _supposed _to be a bright beautiful blue. No such luck. It's dull and lifeless, hardly seen behind the clouds and it too is a colourless grey.

Then there's the ground I stand on. Dirt. And to make things worse, grey dirt.

And the buildings? Yes, they are grey too. Everything's grey. Everything.

They only thing coloured here is my blanket. Even if it's stained with dust and dirt, it's still as bright as anything compared to my district.

I walk from behind the factory and head down a path toward the main street that takes me to the town square. I see people dressed up in their best clothes for today. Seeing as the whole thing is shown live on television people want to make or district look good.

That's why I have brought the blanket. My normal clothes consist of a very long tattered, grey dress and a faded light blue cardigan that you may as well call grey. They are covered in dirt, mud, oil from wearing them every day for the past few years. Seeing as you are supposed to dress up I thought the blanket would be a good idea, I wrap it around my body and tie it up so it serves as a dress.

It may not be up with the latest fashion, but it's colourful and I can't help but smile a watery smile at my work.

I've never been to a Reaping, I've just hid under the factory. But I've heard people talk about it. Apparently it sucks. If I had a choice I would not begin going today. But I heard a rumour that if a kid doesn't turn up they instantly get drawn to go. And I don't want to go. I can't go.

As I walk I keep my eyes planted on the ground. I don't look up. I only look at the space directly in front of my feet. I'm too scared to make eye contact with the people who walk near me. People scare me.

The pavement and gravel I walk on is grey. Grey. Grey. Grey. That's all my life consists of.

That's why I am surprised when I see a little gleam of colour in the corner of my eye. I stop my feet and turn to look at it. On the ground sits a small, but very colourful round thing. I take a step closer to it and bend down. It's threaded with loads of small, colourful beads. Every colour imaginable. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink. Every vibrant colour. And most importantly- no grey.

It's a necklace.

I shift my head from side to side looking for oncoming people, but everyone has already past me and is in the square. Stealing is a crime in District Eight. It's punishable by death.

But no one's here. No one seems to own this necklace. It's not stealing if it belongs to no one.

Plus, it's so beautiful and I want it so badly.

So, with one more quick glace I scoop it up and set off at a run towards the square, with my eyes still planted on the ground.

As I run I clip the necklace around my neck. A smile printed on my face.

In the square I sign in and go to the back of the roped areas where there is lots of 12 year old kids. All of them look pretty in their clothes- real clothes. Frilly frocks and freshly ironed shirts. They all tower above me, I've always been short for my age and I have to crane my neck in order to look up at them. They all give me looks at my blanket wrapped around me, but at the moment, I couldn't care less. Because the amount of colour that is assaulting my eyes is phenomenal.

The normally dull square is decorated in bright banners and rainbow streamers. All the kids create a sea of colour in their clothes and on the stage stands the most colourful person I have ever seen.

Her hair, ever changing. From pink to red to green. Her skin, shimmering like she has been dipped in glitter. Her lips, encrusted with glittering pink jewels.

"Hello there District Eight!" She hollers from the stage, jumping around as she says it.

The crowd doesn't respond.

She seems disappointed with our response but she continues nevertheless, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever _in your favour!"

_How can 'Hunger Games' and happy be put in the same sentence? _I think.

Then the mayor steps up and talks, I don't listen though. I'm too captivated by the colours that surround me. They hypnotise me.

When the mayor is done with his speech the rainbow girl steps back up. "Let the reaping begin!" she announces as she runs over to a giant glass ball filled with paper. She reaches in and runs her hand through the paper for a few minutes before she chooses a piece and takes it over the microphone.

"District Eight!" she says, "Your female tribute for the 66th Hunger Games is!" she pauses for effect then dramatically announces- 'Paisley Waters!"

Everyone goes silent and head turn looking for Paisley Waters. But I don't, I'm still captivated by the girls ever changing hair.

The girl on stage bites her lip and repeats "Paisley Waters?"

But no one gets up on stage.

I smile to myself as the girl's hair changes to a bright glittering yellow.

The crowd ahead of me start to move around as someone cuts through them.

"Paisley Waters?" says a low voice from near me, and it's not the girl on stage.

Her hair turns red.

I turn around and see a huge man. Suited in white, Capitol emblem blazing on his chest, black shining gun in his hand. It's a Peacekeeper.

He bobs down to my level and looks me hard in the eye, "You're Paisley Waters, are you not?" he asks.

I don't reply, I just start shaking, my lip starts to tremble and I start to silently cry.

In the background I see the girl's hair turn a greying silver.

The Peacekeeper smiles and roughly grabs my upper-arm. He drags me through the crowd, my feet scraping the gravel as I scream and kick my legs wildly. My blanket comes undone from around me and I desperately try to cling to it, but it gets caught on something and it is ripped from my grasp to lie sadly, standing out in the grey gravel.

"Let me go! Let me go!" I scream.

Soon he is literally throwing me on stage and I land so hard on my knees that I start to bleed, which makes me cry more.

This can't be happening. I'm not Paisley Waters; I lost that name all those years ago when I lost all the people that cared for me. I lost Paisley Waters the second I had to start sleeping on the street. I'm not Paisley. No-one is.

"Oh finally!" says the rainbow girl, giving me a sympathetic look that confuses me. "Shall we continue?"

Although no one agrees with her she continues nevertheless. She doesn't even bother to ask for volunteers.

"-And the boy tribute for District Eight is!" she looks at the slip, "Titch Buller!"

A tall lanky, sweet looking boy gets up on stage from the fifteen-year-old section. He is trying to stay strong but you can see his legs shaking under his firm stance. But compared to me he looks as if Christmas has come early.

I am rolling on the ground, clutching my knee and crying to myself.

"District Eight meet your tributes for the 66th Hunger Games- Paisley Waters and Titch Buller!" shouts the rainbow girl.

"I'm going to die," I say to myself, "and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Dead. I'm going to be dead. Forever. I am going to die."

And it's true. I _am_ going to die. I'm small. I'm weak. I'm a wreck. I have no survival skills. I can't fight. I _definitely _can't kill. I've never even watched the Hunger Games.

After the mayor says something else I'm picked up roughly from the ground and dragged- screaming again- to the grey, crumbling Justice Building.

I'm shoved into a brightly lit room with beautiful woven tapestry and expensive, fancy pillowed couches. This is where you get your visitors. This is where they come to say there last goodbye.

But I have no one to say goodbye to.

So I sit in here, for a complete hour. Crying into the warm soft carpet. I go to reach for my blanket, but it's not there. It's still sitting in the departing crowd, being trudged and trampled on. The only bit of colour that stayed with me my whole life has gone.

Soon a man comes in and tells me I have to get on the train. but I don't get up, I just look at him, through the tears in my eyes I try to glare at him, so he knows what he is doing to me- he is forcing me to take a ride to my death. But he just grins and grabs my arm.

They drag me through the streets of Eight. People glance at me sympathetically from their windows, but they don't really feel sorry for me, they are just glad it wasn't their daughter that was picked. . .

I'm dragged all the way to the station.

I'm shoved into a train.

The door is slammed behind me.

And I'm off.

Off to the 66th Hunger Games.

__Off to die.


	2. Rainbow

_So here is chapter two, it took a bit to write and not a lot happens but we get to know more about Paisley's personality. We also meet her mentor, escort and district partner! If you are enjoying this story please don't hesitate to check out my other, it's the 5__th__ annual hunger games and is about a girl named Adira! I'd love if you checked it out!_

_**Chapter 2-Rainbow**_

The train's engine bursts into life the second the door clicks shut and I'm flown backwards as the train accelerates. The speed is so phenomenally fast the walls and factories of District Eight fly past me in a huge blur of grey.

The speed begins to scare me and I stumble back from the window and fall to the floor. Things shouldn't go this fast, it's unnatural. Not to mention terrifying. I back myself from the window in hope to get away from the speed but there is really no point.

A voice comes from around the corner and calls out to me, "Paisley!" it says, "Paisley, where are you?"

I don't reply, I just whip my head from side to side looking for the owner of the voice. Soon, the rainbow girl from the stage reveals herself from the corridor door.

"Oh there you are! I've been looking for you everywhere! What are you doing on the floor?"

I look up at her. Her colourful hair, glittering skin, jewel covered lips. She is colourful. She is beautiful.

She raises her eyebrow and waits for my reply. But I just tilt my head to the side and look at her quizzically.

The girl twitches her head in confusion and smiles sweetly down at me. "Well, Paisley, you don't seem like the talkative type I'm guessing. So how about you just pick yourself up and follow me into the T.V room so we can watch the recaps of the Reapings, hey?"

I squint my eyes in repulse then shake my head. I'm not going to watch the recaps of the Reapings. I don't want to look into the face of someone who will become my killer.

"Oh why not?" rainbow girl asks.

I shake my head again.

The rainbow girl smiles a warm and gentle grin then bobs down so she is sitting on the edge of her high glittering high heels. She sighs. "Paisley, I understand you are terrified. But I'm not here to make you scared. I'm not going to hurt you so you can talk to me."

I nod my head but I don't say anything.

She laughs airily as she exhales, "So you're still not going to say anything? Well that's okay. I don't suppose you want to watch the recaps? No? I didn't think so. How about I just take you to your room and you have a rest?"

I nod eagerly and the girl offers me her hand. I look at it, unsure but I eventually decide to let her help me up. Someone so colourful couldn't be evil.

The girl takes me down a long corridor and into a giant room. She then leads me to a large king sized bed and helps me climb in. She smiles down at me then strokes back my hair and tells me she will collect me for dinner later. Then she goes to leave.

Just as she goes to close the door behind her I call out, "Rainbow girl!" I say, her hair turns a shining yellow.

"Yes?" she says smiling widely and turning to face me in the doorway.

I look at her blankly for a second, completely confused about the motives of me calling out to her, but the reason soon comes to me, I wanted to tell her something- "You're colourful."

She gives a silent laugh, "Why yes. Yes I am."

I nod at her as I tighten the doona around me and she smiles even more. "And Pretty," I say.

The rainbow girl closes her eyes as she laughs to herself once more. "Thank-you," she says then nods and closes the door behind her.

With the rainbow girl gone the room seems so dark. This is odd because there are colours everywhere. The walls are a deep red and the carpet a royal purple patterned with golden swirls. The sofas that sit against a wall are leaf green velvet and the pillows are orange with silver tassels and sequins. Yet, even with this colour, without the ever changing, shimmering, gleaming lights of the rainbow girl's hair reflecting off her jewelled lips, this room seems as dull and dark as my home under the District Eight factory.

Even looking up onto the roof brings more sadness. Because the roof is made completely out of a silver metal that shows me my own reflection. I see my white pale skin that has faded with under nourishment. My ugly coloured mousey brown hair that most would call grey and my blank lifeless grey eyes. Even I am grey.

Suddenly I am overcome by darkness I begin to cry. I tell myself how stupid I am being and how I have more important things to cry about like certain death yet I am crying over something as simple as missing some girl I have only just met and I want to watch her hair change colour.

_Are you really crying over that rainbow girl? _I ask myself, _not that you are riding on a train to your doom oh no! You're crying over a stupid capitol girl with glittery skin!_

I nod in reply to my own question. Yes. I am. I am crying over a girl with glittery skin. Not because I am about to die in the next week. Not because children will be forced to kill me. Not because I will never see my home again. But because a girl I don't even know the name of has left my room.

I know I need to pull myself together but I just feel so hopeless I can't do it. I can't stop myself from crying over that girl and the thought about things I _should _be crying about has overall made me even more upset.

Soon I'm shaking of tears and sobs that I fall off my bed and onto the train floor. The rocking and rolling of the train sends me flying across the room and I land with a crash against one of the green sofas.

I let out a little scream as my back collides with the leg of the sofa and begin to cry more. But the collision seemed to have knocked some sense into me and after a few seconds I stop myself from crying and decide to take action.

I bang my palms onto the ground and push myself off from the floor where I stand shakily. I breathe in deeply then set off, with my arms swinging, to the door of the train where I fling it open and march with purpose down the hallway.

I've never been brave before. Or faced my fears. Or gone out of my comfort zone, so this is a big thing for me.

I'm going to go find the rainbow girl!

I wasn't paying attention when rainbow girl lead me down this corridor so I don't really know where she is but I push on every door and look through every window as I walk down the rocky hall.

Soon I reach the end of the compartment and peer through a window of a door, inside sits a couch and a TV, but no rainbow girl. Just as I go to turn and head into the next compartment someone tall and skinny bangs into me and I fall to the floor banging my elbow hard against the wall of the carriage.

"Woah!" says the boy as he regains his balance, "I'm sorry!"

I brush his apology off with a shake of my head as I assess the damage of my elbow, its red and grazed but its fine. But even though it didn't hurt much I can't stop a sniffle of pain escaping my lips.

"Are you okay?" he says bending down to help me off the floor and offering his hand to me. My eyes follow up his arm to rest on his eyes. They are an amazing emerald green and are so bright against his pale skin that I blink several times to make sure I'm not seeing things. "Are you okay?" he repeats.

"You have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen," I say.

The boy laughs, "You must have bumped your head."

"No, no." I say, "They are the most beautiful green in the world."

He smiles and nods, thanking me. Then he grabs my hand and pulls me off the ground.

"I'm Titch," he says.

Oh! He is my district partner, I become scared.

"Oh," I say becoming quite shy, "hi."

Titch laughs, "Paisley, right? It's okay; I'm not going to attack you."

_Not yet ,_I think.

"Nor will I in the arena," he assures me, as if he knew what I was thinking, "I don't believe I should value anybody's life above my own."

I look at him confused.

"I'm not going to kill anyone in the arena." He says finally giving me a warm smile.

I nod looking at the ground, "But then you'll die." I point out.

"Maybe so, there are other ways to win the Hunger Games without killing people. But even if I do at least I die knowing I didn't hurt anyone."

I nod again, unsure of what to say or if I should believe him. I look into his eyes again and they light up as he grins at me again. I blink at him, give him a final nod them dodge past him making my back down the corridor as quick as I can.

"Wait!" he calls after me, but I keep walking, speeding up my step as I do. I can't trust this boy. No-one in Panam helps someone up after they fall, instead they kick them whist there down. Nor do they suddenly confess they are going to die in order to save someone else. No one is that kind or giving.

It's an act. It has to be.

"Wait!" Titch calls out again and I break out into a run as he I hear him coming up behind me. I begin to freak out and reach for the closest door, slide it open quickly then slam it behind me. My finger fumble for the lock but it eventually clicks shut leaving me safe behind this door with Titch in the corridor asking politely for me to let him in.

I turn around and slide down the door breathing out in relief to get away from that crazy boy. I mean _sure _he _seemed _nice but this is the Hunger Games! No one is nice when it comes down to the arena. Everyone will kill.

Well everyone except me because I know I'm going to die on the first day so I'm not really bothering about the thought of having to kill anyone.

So it _has_ to be an act, there is no question for it. He is going to lure me in, tell me he won't hurt me. He'll help me pass the bloodbath and the first few days, he will tell me he will protect me, and just when I begin to think I may have a chance in life- BAM! Knife in the back.

So it's either an act or his insane...

I breathe in deep to calm myself down and I hear Titch outside the door begin to realise that he is scaring me.

"Okay Paisley, I'll go now, but I promise I won't hurt you." Then his footsteps slowly make their way down the corridor.

I grit my teeth, refusing to believe Titch is being genuine; I make a mental note to steer clear of him. Then I look up to see that I am not alone.

"Hello Paisley, finally notice we're here, have you?" Says the rainbow girl from the table.

"You took your time," says another girl who sits across from her.

I back myself closer into the door; I don't like the look of the other girl. She has sleek ringlet reddish hair and deep red lips, she looks young, still in her teenage years, maybe 17. But what makes her scary is her really deep scar that starts at her forehead and cuts through her eye to end at the tip of her mouth, the cut makes the edge of her lip slope down somewhat and makes her lips lopsided.

She laughs, "It's okay Paisley, I'm your mentor, Rella. Me and Dia we're just discussing you funnily enough."

"Dia?" I say.

"Yeah?" the rainbow girl replies.

"Who's Dia?"

The Rainbow girl begins to giggle, "Me! I'm Dia Monte. I thought you knew that already."

I shake my head, "No I didn't."

Dia shrugs, "Oh well you do now! Come sit with us Paisley." She pats the seat next to her.

I bite my lip and lift myself off the ground. I head around the table the long way so I don't have to go near the Rella girl and sit on the edge of my seat next to Dia.

I look at the table in front of me which sits a large array of biscuits and cookies. Star shaped ones, heart shaped one, Some filled with a red jelly and some topped with cream. "Have one if you would like," Dia says, so I reach out and grab a colourful biscuit topped with rainbow sprinkles.

"That's a very pretty one," Dia says sweetly smiling down on me. I beam at her and nibble on the edge of the biscuit.

"It's colourful." I say

"It sure is," Dia says, "You like colours, don't you?"

I nod quickly as the taste of the biscuit fills my mouth, it's full of sugar and super sweet, it taste so delicious that I shove the rest of it in my mouth and grab another.

"I love colour too," Dia says smiling to herself as she sits back in her chair, "They are really the only thing that is everywhere you look."

_No, _I think, _you are wrong Dia. Very wrong. You haven't been into the heart of District Eight, where there is no colour._

"Plus," Dia continues, "They are one of the few things that cause no harm. You can't colour someone to death, can you?"

I giggle into my biscuit and shake my head, "No you can't."

"Like a rainbow for instance, it's so beautiful, and colourful, yet it does nothing to hurt anyone, it's just there to be appreciated and bring a little brightness to people's day." Dia says.

Then I see it. I only ever saw a rainbow once. But I remember it as if I see it every day. It wasn't a special day, it was raining which wasn't uncommon and I was outside foraging though dumpsters looking for food when it stopped and the sun began to shine through the grey clouds, I looked up into the sky in hope to see some of its beautiful blue that was always hidden behind the overcast, but I got something better then blue. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo and Violet, all coming together in a giant arch that stretched across the whole sky.

"Dia, I honestly think that's enough about colour, we have to start talking tactics!" Rella says interrupting my happiest memory.

I frown at her, _tactics?_

Rella sees my confusion and explains, "Well, as your mentor I have to guide you through the games, I'm your source of any gifts sent to you from sponsors and I guide you through the pre-game events. I am also required to set up you arena plan to try and keep you alive as long as possible."

I still frown at her confused.

"What isn't it you understand?" Dia asks kindly smiling down at me.

"Uh," I splutter, "um, I don't understand why I need tactics."

"Oh well that's easy!" Rella trills enthusiastically, "Everyone has to have tactics, or you won't survive the first day! You have to plan out every step of your games and play to your strengths, speaking of which, what are you strengths?" she looks at me with her eyes wide trying to give me a warm smile but the cut stops one side of her lips going up so she does this strange twisted grin.

Rella waits for my response but I am too scared to answer her. Instead my lips just tremble. Rella lowers her eyebrows (or at least tries to, but the cut takes up the majority of one) confusion as to why I am not responding.

Dia speaks up encouragingly, "Paisley, do you want to tell Rella what your good at? It will help us both to help you survive."

I shake my head at her in a way that has finality to it, "No," I say in a stubborn way at which I have never heard myself speak, "No, What's the point? You can't help me survive, no one can." Then I get up, picking up the plate of rainbow biscuits and leave the room swiftly with tears streaming from my eyes.

_ Hope you liked it. In most Hunger Games Fanfics I find that the tributes always despise their idiotic escort but I wanted to try something different and create a friendship between Dia and Paisley. So please review! I love getting an email to tell me someone enjoyed my story! And thank-you to all those who reviewed me! Thankyou thankyou thankyou! Ill try and update soon._

_The Girl Who Was On Fire_


	3. Capitol

_Late update. Sorry. I have not been in the mood at all to write anything. None of my stories have been updated for at least a month now... anyway, this chapter is mainly Paisley crying, we see a bit of what she thinks of the capitol and things. New update will be up soon._

_**Chapter 3-Capitol**_

I sit in on my bed for the remainder of the afternoon, stuffing sprinkled biscuits into my mouth and staring out the window at the blur of colour as the train races past various landscapes. I cry the whole time, silently. I cry so much my eyes hurt and my throat stings from trying to stop the sound of my sobs reaching the air.

And what makes my crying worse than ever before is because now I have a reason to cry. Before I cried over nothing, because I hurt myself, because I felt sorry for myself, because I wanted something I couldn't have. But now, I am crying for a reason and it only makes me cry more. I'm crying because I am going to die.

I don't know why it never hit my before, I knew it, I knew it the second Dia called my name, but for some strange reason I never really believed myself when I thought it. Maybe I thought I was dreaming or I would hop on the train and that was the end, but no.

And now, after I have said it out-loud I realise it's true, it's going to happen, I am going to die.

There is nothing I can do to stop it. There is nothing anyone can do to stop it. So why 'talk tactics' with my scary mentor.

Just then there is a knock on my door.

"Paisley?" someone says.

I don't reply, I just stare at the door with my puffy red eyes and take in a jolting breath.

"Can I come in?" it asks.

I stay silent and hope the person goes away. But they don't, because a second later the door slides open and I see Dia standing in the door way holding another plate of sprinkled biscuits in one hand.

"I thought you may be hungry," Dia says as she steps forward and closes the door behind her.

I keep staring at her and I feel a tear slip off my nose and land in my clenched fists as I sniffle.

"Oh Paisley," Dia says as she sees how upset I am, she places the plate of biscuits on a bench then walks swiftly towards me holding out her arms, she comes and sits beside me on the bed and wraps her arms around me bringing my head down on her shoulder. "It's alright, it's alright," she coos as she strokes my hair.

I sob into her shoulder and thank my stars I was given such a caring escort. I don't know how long I sit there crying but after what seems like forever Dia lets go of me, takes my face in her hands and makes me look at her.

"Are you alright?"

I shake my head.

"Oh sweetie, I want you to listen to me. You have as much of a chance as anyone does, okay? Nearly all of the other tributes have it the same as you. Only a few know how to fight and actually-" I cut her off.

"-Wait what?" I say stopping my tears, "What do you mean a few know how to fight?"

"Well Paisley, it's going to be like all the other years. Obviously there are going to be a few careers and-"

"Careers?" I interject, "What's that?"

"You don't know who the careers are?" she says, "Remember last year's victor, Rocky? He was in the career pack, from District Two."

I shake my head, "I didn't watch it."

"What about the year before, Cora from Four? She drowned that boy in the lake." Dia tries, but I shake my head again.

"I haven't seen any of the games," I tell her and her jaw drops in shock.

"Wait, you mean _never?"_

I nod, "Yes, never," then I begin to cry again, "So I'll have no chance."

__"Then how do you know about them?" Dia asks.

"Well," I choke, "I hear the people in the factories talking about them, it's everywhere, how couldn't I know about them?" I grab the pillow off my bed and begin to blow my nose on it.

Dia nods, "I guess so. . ."

"What are the careers?" I ask quietly, afraid of what the answer may be.

"Uh, well, they are tributes that, um," she hesitates, "Volunteer to go to the Games, they, uh, train for it."

"See!" I say, throwing my hands in the air and sending the pillow flying, "I am going to die! I have no chance! And now I find out there are people that can actually fight I am doomed!"

"No no, sweetie, you can't think that, the games come down to luck, everyone-"

"Luck? Do you think I have luck? No, both my parents are dead and I have been living under a factory for most of my life, I am _not _lucky." I say tears fogging up my vision.

"Under a factory?" Dia says shocked, "Don't you have a home?"

But I don't reply to her because I just become so completely overwhelmed by everything that I take in one huge raspy breath then collapse onto the ground.

I am laying down, my head swimming with confusion and drowsiness. The sheets around me are soft and warm. I don't think I have ever been this comfortable in my life. My head is sinking into a soft fluffy pillow and I'm lost in my dreams of swirls and glitter.

I shadow appears over the light of my eyelids and I realise there is someone standing over me. I feel the breath of them and take in a huge gasp of air. Before I have even opened my eyes I begin to scream as loud as my lungs can manage. I fling my eyes open to see a young boy looking over me. I kick my legs around in fright and some of the blankets fall off the bed.

I scream louder and the boy shuffles backward, trips over himself and lands with a crash onto the floor. Hi body braces the fall but his lips stay locked together, he doesn't even cry out when he crashes.

I stop my screaming, intrigued and confused by the boy. I sit up and tilt my head at him. I feel my hands shaking under the sheets of the bed, every part of me is telling me to scream and run, but I can't. There is something strange about him that keeps me quiet.

He stands himself up quickly and looks down at the floor, hiding his eyes behind his black cropped hair that stands up on all ends. He swiftly rushes forward and picks the blanket off the floor and throws it neatly back onto the bed. He bows his head the rushes out of the room.

I want to call him back, but my lips stay shut, I don't know why, but I want to know who that boy was.

I sit up in the bed and realise I'm not on the train anymore. I must have passed out because now I'm in a posh room with fancy paintings and ornaments scattered everywhere, it's twice as fancy as the train and justice building put together. It's the Capitol.

The window that sits above the bed proves me right. And just a glace out it and my breath is taken away. The Capitol is more than just the heart of Panam, or the ruler of the world as I know it. It's more than the place that dwell the cruel people who are sending me to my death, it's more than any of that. Just looking out this window makes it hard for me to hate these people. There is so much more to the Capitol then any knows, so much more. Because the Capitol is colourful.

The light lavender of the sky scraping towers, the candy colours of the giant houses and the rainbow of the pavements. You can't look somewhere without your eyes being assaulted by beauty. This place is completely opposite to District Eight, where you can't look anywhere without being depressed.

I sit up on the bed and stare out of the window, tears form in my eyes of how beautiful it is. I only pull my eyes away when I hear Dia speak from behind me, "It's amazing isn't it, hey, Paisley?"

I look at her quickly and nod before I turn back to the window. Dia laughs.

"What happened?" I ask; my eyes still fixated on the colourful people the size of ants walking in the streets below. "I was on the train before, but now. . ." I flick my eyes to Dia.

"You passed out. Don't worry dear; it happens to Tributes all the time. Stress gets to them."

"Oh," I say, slightly ashamed with myself. I turn back to the window and stare down at it sighing.

"Do you want to go and have a look at it, just a bit closer?" Dia asks.

I look at her in disbelief. "You mean go down into the streets?"

"Yep. Only if you want to, of course."

I jump off the bed and start squealing in excitement, "Oh my god! Oh my god!" I squeak running around Dia and she starts giggling like mad.

"Okay! Okay! Let's go!" she says, and I take her hand and sprint towards the door the boy from before walked out of.

I run down the hall even though I have no idea where I'm going, but Dia doesn't stop me because I must be going the right way. We reach the end and we come to a large set of doors, Dia pushes a button and we step inside, the doors close and we shoot down at a phenomenal speed.

Normally I would be crying of fear about this 'elevator' as Dia calls it but I am so excited about the Capitol I have temporarily thrown away my old self and I have been replaced with a happy, chirping energetic girl who is bursting with confidence.

When we leave the elevator Dia walk up to a counter and explains to a man who has red hair, eyes, skin and teeth that he is taking me to see the Capitol. He goes to refuse but Dia insists that she has had permission from higher people and we are soon walking, or should I say bouncing, out shining glass doors.

I feel as if I am as small as a grain as dust compared to the ever heightening buildings. I am craning my neck constantly as I look up at them and my neck hurts from darting it side to side desperate to not miss a single thing.

Dia hold onto one of my hands and points out things with the other, "That's where people go to get their hair done," she says pointing at a flower shaped building. "And that's where we buy our jewellery," she says pointing at a shop that is covered in tiny mirrors.

Many people say hi to Dia as we walk, she is very popular amongst the Capitol people because apparently you a practically famous if you are a Hunger Games Escort. She even introduces me to some who insist they get a picture with me so they can show their friends they met a Tribute.

Dia takes me into some shops and buys me food that I have never heard of in my life. She gets me something called 'Fairy Floss' which is like pink clouds on a stick that melt in your mouth. Then she takes me to a lolly shop and hands me a giant rainbow lollipop that I lick happily as I roam the town.

Too soon Dia says we have to go back, so we weave ourselves back through the colourful city and go back into the giant building we game from labelled "Training Centre."

"Did you enjoy that?" Dia asks as we rise back up the elevator to our level.

I nod my head eagerly as I take a lick of my lollipop, then I wrap my arms around Dia's waster and look up at her, "Thank-you," I say, "Thank-you so , so much."

Dia beams at me, "It was my pleasure sweetie."

When we reach our level again I see Rella standing at the end of the hallway with her arms crossed and an angry look imprinted onto her face.

"Where have _you _been?" She says eyeing down Dia.

"Oh I just took little Paisley here for a tour of our colourful city!"

"Did you think to ask me? Or anyone for that matter?" Rella asks.

"Well, I don't really think that was necessary to be honest-"

"Well the bloody Capitol people have been on my back for the last hour convinced I let her bloody sneak out! They thought you'd escaped! They said I was going to be in huge trouble if you didn't come back!" Rella yells at Dia.

All the happiness from the last hour rushes out of me and I drop my lollipop, let go of Dia's hand and run into what I remember was my room and slam the door behind me. I hear Dia and Rella going at it, yelling at each other. Dia says she just wanted to give me some time to be happy because I had been miserable throughout the whole train ride and Rella screams that the whole point of the Games is to make people miserable, whether we like it or not.

I run over to my bed and dive onto and begin to cry and cry. Now, because of me, Dia, my only friend, is in trouble.

As I cry someone comes into the room, I assume its Dia, but she doesn't say anything. I turn around to tell her I'm sorry that she is in trouble but I see it's not her.

It's the boy, the one from when I woke up, seeing him again makes me realise how young he is, he looks about 12; my age. He holds a tray of food in his hands and he walks over to me, his eyes fixated on the ground as he does. He is dressed in all white and has some sort of emblem blazed onto it. He is obviously a Capitol attendant.

I look at him shyly, my shoulder tucked up to my chin and my knees withdrawing into my chest as draws nearer. I sniff and wrap the blankets around me tightly as the boy places the tray on the bedside table and starts fiddling around with the food.

After a few minutes he holds me out a plate of food, it holds bread topped with butter and sprinkles. In his other hands is a glass of clear, sparkling water.

I stare at the food without touching it. I try to meet the boy's eyes to tell him I don't want it without words but his eyes are covered by his long black fringe. He pushes the plate closer, insisting I take it, but I don't. So he stands there for a bit, looking at me through his fringe and occasionally twitching the plate in hope I will take it.

"Paisley!" shouts a voice from the hall. I jump out of fright and give a high pitched squeal; the boy stumbles backwards, trips over his feet and crashes to the crowd. "Paisley! Get out here!" Rella bursts into the room, her face as read as her scar in fury. "Paisley!" she stand in the doorway eyes narrowed at me, "Get out of bed now! We don't have time for you crying in bed! Get _up_!"

I completely freeze and stare at her in shock with my mouth ajar. She screams more and when I don't move she moves towards me, stepping over the boy and stands over me. She grabs my upper arm roughly and drags me out of bed. Dia comes through the door yelling at Rella but she just pushes past her and drags me out the room. I don't kick, or scream, or cry, because I am frozen solid with fear and shock.

I see the boy on the ground scramble to his feet and make a feeble attempt to help me. Rella takes me down the hall and through a door. She pushes me into a strange room, lets me go and leaves.

_Yeah strange as psychopathic mentor hey? Well don't hate her too much yet, we here more about her soon. and pay attention to the boy, he plays bigger roll as the story progresses... _

_ Thanks for reading! Drop a review! Until next time._

_ The Girl Who Was On Fire._


	4. Beautiful

_Sorry for the late update, juggling several stories at once! _

_ So not a lot happens in this chapter, Paisley just makes her mark on one of the Prep members. She changes a lot of people during her time at the Capitol, and here is one that she makes a particular mark on._

_ (recap!- Rella just went off her head and shoved Paisley into a room and slammed the door)_

_ Please drop a review and tell me what you think!_

_**Chapter 4- Beautiful**_

The carpet is pure white. So white it almost stings my eyes to look at it. The door where Rella just went out is white too. So are the walls, and the roof.

Compared to all the other rooms I have seen in the Capitol, this is the strangest; I can't imagine why it's decorated like this... Most are decorated with frills and swirls. Chairs laden with velvet and silky curtains outlining the windows, but not this room. This room is only white.

With Rella gone I slowly begin to unfreeze, starting with my finger tips. Blood gradually starts flowing into the tips of my limbs and a warmth makes them able to move again. Soon the warmth spreads up my arms and legs.

After a while, I release my breath that I had been holding for a while and a huge sigh of relief escapes my lips.

"Why, hello there!" squeals a voice from behind me and I spasm in fright. I whiz around at lightning speed and see an abnormally short, skinny and strange woman. "Oh no." she gasps, "Why don't I have a _lot _of work to do."

She stands in front of an open door that sits the only wall in the room that isn't white. Instead its entire area is covered in a giant mirror. The woman, or should I say girl, has the strangest flower covered skin. She doesn't have eyebrows or eyelashes, just tiny little multicoloured flowers sprouting from her skin. Her hair is long wavy black weaved with vines and flowers too. Her skin is a light leaf green and oddly powdery.

My level of fright can't rise any higher than it has already so I just sit on the ground, with my arms wrapped around my knees, my face blank and emotionless.

The woman sighs again and her eyes roll, "Well, there's no time like the present is there? I'll fetch the other." Then she turns on her heel and bounces out of the room.

Before I have time to do _anything_ she is back, flanked my two other strange individuals. One has incredibly dark skin, but it looks natural. She looks almost normal, but as she whispers to the other girl I see that her tongue isn't normal; but instead it's split into two.

The other girl, she looks incredibly young, no older than 15. She has baby pink skin with strange swirls engraved into it. She is very pretty, even if she is scary and strange.

"I see what you mean, Lil'," the strange tongue woman tells the flower girl.

"It's as bad as you said, Look at what she is wearing!" the young one says distressed.

"C'mon guys, it's nothing we can't handle. We have the whole rest of the day to work our magic." The one named Lil' reassures them.

They nod, confident with their skills- whatever they may be- and huddle together, discussing something in there quick paced, strange voices. They temporarily forgot my existence as they babble, but after several minutes they nod to each other and the flower girl and the strange tongued one scurry off into another room and the young pink one stays and approaches me.

I frown at her, but don't back away as she nears. Her smile, it doesn't look threatening, but genuine and kind.

"Hey! Paisley, right?" she asks, then not waiting for my confirmation she continues, "We weren't expecting you for a while. But I guess Rella thought you needed all the time you could get. She was right. We have a _lot _of work on our hands. Oh, don't get me wrong, you are absolutely _adorable! _But you know, adorable won't cut it here. Gosh you are going to look amazing when we are done. Pike is new, but he is good. _Different. _But different is good in the games. Catches attention."

My jaw opens ever so slightly, completely and utterly puzzled by _everything_ she just said.

"OH! Where are my manners?" she says, "I'm Ariel! And the flower girl? Well she is Lilliarnia, but we call her Lil. And the dark one? With the snake tongue? She's Xayla. We are your prep team!"

I nod to her, as if I understand.

_Prep team?_

"Ooh!" Ariel says looking at me with her eyes beaming, "I _love _your necklace!"

I frown at her, but then incline my head to see beads hanging around my neck. I am puzzled for the slightest amount of time before I remember what happened minutes before the Reaping, when I found the rainbow necklace.

Was it really just a day ago? It feels eternity.

How could I have forgotten about one of the few things that brought me happiness? Even if it was for such a small amount of time?

"Is that your token?"

I frown. _Token?_

"The one thing you have in the arena to remind you of home?"

I nod.

"Well it's beautiful!"

I nod thank-you.

"Anytime cutie!" Ariel says bouncing up and down on the spot.

Lilliarnia or 'Lil' and Xayla come rushing back in. Xayla is wheeling a trolley topped with strange items and Lil is holding a pen and clipboard.

Lil moves the pen down the board as she list words I don't understand to Xayla and Ariel, "So we start with a full body wax then treatment. Then we move to treating, shampooing and conditioning the hair. After that we rid of split ends. Then brush and treat again. We do a full wash, cleanse and exfoliate. Do finger tails and toe nails. Then make-up to body base zero before we call out Pike to get the look started. Got that all?"

Ariel and Xayla nod and get to work straight away. Ariel comes towards me, saying things like, "There is no need to panic," and "you are going to look _beautiful!"_ but to be honest, I'm too confused to panic.

Ariel takes my hand and leads me into another room much like this one, but smaller and completely surrounded with mirrors. She sits me down on a table so high my legs dangle off the edge and she tells me that cooperation is key for the next few hours. At the time I don't understand what she means.

But it soon becomes apparent.

I am told to strip naked. They ask it so naturally you'd think they would have asked me to turn off a light or something. I stare at them in shock, but they become absorbed in some products that sit on the trolley that they don't notice my horror.

After a few minutes they look up and see I am fully clothed. Lil goes to speak but Ariel cuts her off by whispering something in her ear. Lil' shrugs and nods.

"Keep your underwear on if you want, Paisley," Ariel says, "We just need you to take your, um, _dress _off."

I look down at my dress. Well, less a dress and more ratty scraps of dirty material, but call it what you please.

I still look up at her in shock, and pleading ever so slightly. Ariel sighs and whispers something to Lil, she whispers something in return and Ariel nods, then leaves the room and comes back holding a pile of neatly folded clothes.

"Okay, so you don't have to get completely undress, but it would be helpful if you put these on." She says handing me the pile, then she twitched her head toward the door to Lil and Xayla and they all rush out of the room.

I stare at the door for a few minutes before I unroll the pile and slip on the white singlet and small soft shorts.

I have never worn something so _white _before. It's strange and alien to me. But it's better then my grey dress.

They come back in the second I slip my shorts on which makes me question if I was really in privacy or not. But before I can feel violated or anything they sit me down on a cold silver table and begin rubbing down my arms and legs in a strange, thick, citrus smelling lotion. Although it burns a little, I don't complain, because the lotion is yellow. Yellow! And when I am completely covered in it, it looks like I am like a creature from the sun!

I am a little sad when they wash it off with a little round thing with holes in it that squirts water called a shower. But I am quickly cheered up when they replace it with a bubbly hot pink concoction.

Over a variety of hours I am painted all the colours of the rainbow as Ariel, Lil and Xayla 'prep' me. They chatter about things and compliment my behaviour, but I don't really pay attention, because I have never been touched by so many colours in my life.

After several lotions they turn to my hair, which makes their chatter seise and they become extremely serious. I watch through the mirror as they pick up strands of my hair and roll it around in their fingers and scrunch up their noses.

"Does she _ever_ brush her hair?" Xayla says to the others, not bothering to drop her voice, "Have you seen these split ends?"

Ariel slaps her gently and inclines her head towards me, "Don't be mean, she probably couldn't afford a brush." She says under her breath, but she has obviously forgotten she has her lips quite close to my ear.

Xayla shrugs and drops a strand of my hair, "Why couldn't we get a District with more _class_?"

"Because it's our first year. Preps always get dodgy districts on their first year. If we do well they will _have_ to bump us up for the next games," Lil says.

"They better; at least One's can afford hair brushes."

"Hey, be glad we got Eight, we could have been stuck with scrubbing coal out of Twelve's" Lil says cringing.

Ariel purses her lips and shakes her head to herself; she doesn't seem impressed with her fellow Prep members. "Guys, we have a job to do here," she says smiling at me through the mirror.

After a few minutes of deliberating they decided to rub down my hair with a fruity smelling clear liquid that makes my hair feel slimy against my neck. They wrap it up and sit it on my head and leave it to sit for a bit whilst they move on to rubbing down my legs with a rough rock like substance and scrub all the dead skin off my legs.

Then they attend to my nails, which apparently is a big deal. My nails are chipped and cracked from lack of water and my constant biting them over the last few hours out of fear. The Prep team decide that as a young tribute nails aren't the most important factor, so they just polish and sharpen them before moving back to my hair.

As they wash out and retreat my hair I decide to do something I haven't done throughout the time I have spent with the Prep team-speak.

"Um, if you don't mind me asking, why are you, uh, prepping me?" I ask shyly.

Xayla scoffs and rolls her eyes whilst Ariel gives a little laugh. But Lil, obviously being the Prep in charge answers me. "For the chariots of course." She says, "All the tributes get prepared by their Prep team before the stylists show them the outfit."

"But I don't understand," I say, "What are the chariots?"

Xayla scoffs again and shakes her head at me.

"Don't you watch the Games, dear?" Lil says.

"Um, no."

"Oh," she says, taken aback.

Xayla hits her hand into her face and rubs her eyes in frustration, "I am never going to prep a winner on this rate," she mutters to herself, but the other two don't hear her and I act like I didn't.

Lil has become confused over my confession of not watching the Games, so Ariel takes over, "The chariots are a part of the lead up to the Games. You have a week in the Capitol before you are sent to the arena. Tonight you will ride around the Capitol in costumes designed to reflect your districts. Tomorrow, the next day and the day after you will be training. Then you will be judged on your training. After that you have interviews. Then you go to the Games."

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why do they make you ride through the city, and have interviews? What's the point?"

"Oh, so the Capitol will get to learn about the tributes and get to know them," she says.

"But why? Why do they care about getting to know them? All but one are going to die, so why get to know 23 others when you will lose them?"

Ariel blinks a few times as she thinks, "I-I don't know." Then she breathes out thoughtfully and frowns in concentration. "I don't know," she says again, firmly.

I shake my head, "I don't either."

"Mmm," she says undoing my hair and combing her fingers through it, with her eyes concentrated on something that cannot be seen.

They all pull themselves back to my hair after a few minutes. They comb it as they fire hot air from a strange object to dry it. They spray fruity smelling stuff in my hair, comb through it and tie it in a neat pony tail.

I have never seen my hair look nice. The grey blonde has always been ratty and mattered in knots that I was long since bothered with combing out. But now it looks shiny, and clean. And the wash has shown it to be less grey, and more golden.

I smile.

"Nicer, isn't it?" Lil says, "But we will get some scissors to it later. Now we must call in Pike."

She shuffles off and Ariel and Xayla follow her. Xayla's parting gift to me is a glare and then she disappears from the room.

I'm left standing in the mirrored room for several minutes by myself, staring curiously at myself. I never knew my skin could look so soft and shiny, nor my hair be so shimmery. I am stunned into silence.

"Introducing, the latest and greatest escort of the Hunger Games; Pike Lettel!" Booms a voice and a man strolls dramatically into the room.

He is completely green, and scaled. He has a strangely lengthen noise and nostrils that flare every time he breathes. His ears are spiky and pointy and his teeth are sharpened to points. He has spikes protruding out of his bald, scaled head and his eyes are dyed blood red. He looks like a dragon.

I am positively terrified of him.

He _tries_ to smile warmly at me, but he flashes me his pointed teeth, and I feel my muscles tense and a whimper escapes my mouth, Pike doesn't notice.

His face drops when he sees the size of me, "Oh no," he says, "You won't do! This is all wrong!"

I have no idea what he is talking about.

"Gee, I didn't realise you were _this _small when I saw you in the Reaping. I guess that camera does add ten pounds. Your outfit won't fit!" he says stressed. He calls for the Prep team to bring in the costume and they all run in, fussing over a black bag.

Lil shakes her head, "It's not going to work," she tells Pike.

"It's going to have to," he says, "I haven't got time to change it."

Lil shrugs and unzips the bag, revealing a small, colourful garment.

"I thought it should match her name," Pike says as I look at the dress, but I don't understand.

"Lift up your arms," the dragon orders me and I comply. Lil slips the dress over my arms and steps back judge it on me.

Her, Pike, Ariel and Xayla are frown and purse their lips as they tilt their heads to the side.

"She looks adorable!" Ariel says finally.

"Maybe so," pike says, "But I didn't want her to be _adorable,_ I wanted her to be noticed! How can she be noticed with _no _skin showing?"

"Pike," Ariel says, "You couldn't of had her looking skimpy, she is twelve."

"Skimpy gets peoples notice!" he booms, "But she is too small for this dress to be skimpy on her! Her whole angle is ruined!"

"Don't worry, Pike" Lil says, "She will look good no matter what, you designed it so she has to."

Pike nods, "I guess you're right. I am the greatest stylist of these games, aren't I?"

"Most definitely!" The Preps chorus.

"Mmm, anyway, I'm hungry. You do her makeup, and do something with her hair too." Then he leaves.

"Take a look at yourself," Ariel tells me.

I turn around to see myself in the mirror and my jaw drops in shock.

The dress is loose on me, and falls to my ankles in a flowy fashion. It's all the colours of the rainbow and it weaves around in strange patterns.

"It's called a paisley pattern," Lil says, "Like your name."

I nod as I understand.

The Preps surround me and paint me up in many colours of makeup. They paint my lips a range of colours and put dust on my eyes that butterfly outward. They put glitter in my hair and weave strips of material into it. Then they put it up into a high bun and curl it so it falls down my face.

They step out of the way so I can see myself in the mirror.

"She would have looked better if she had the slutty dress like Pike planned," Xayla comments.

But I don't agree. I don't think I could ever look better. I look colourful. I look as if I came from a rainbow. I look beautiful.

_**There you go, reviews would be lovely!**_


	5. Doomed

_Oh my gosh! So so sorry about the extremely late update! Just been so BORED of writing. But I am back in the writing mood! yay!_

_I am renaming this story. The reason for this is because I have nearly finished my detailed plans of the entire story at it goes SO beyond the Games aspect of it. Anyway, I need a name and I am still working on a really good one. If you come up with a good one just PM me, it would be lovely if I got some ideas from you!_

_ RECAP- Paisley has just been dressed for the Chariot, her stylist wanted to make her look 'slutty', but she turned out looking quite beautiful!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Five- Doomed<strong>_

"I am supposed to give you an angle to play, but you seem incapable of even stringing a sentence together so here is my advice- Don't pass out."

Those were the comforting words of Rella before music started blaring out the speakers and the horses began to trot, whisking the chariot I stand on with them.

When Ariel told me I was riding on a chariot I didn't _fully_ understand what she was talking about but I do now and I'm terrified.

No one told me I was being pulled by strange four legged animals called _horses. _No one told me I would be paraded through the entire city. And _no one_ told me the entire population of Panem would be watching.

I take quick short breaths but I try to space them out so I can calm down. My knees are wobbling like crazy and I find it hard to keep my balance as the horses trot evenly beneath me, causing the chariot to bump in every direction.

"Calm down, Paisley," says the boy behind me.

He looks terrible in his suit covered in varieties of wools and materials but he seems fine with his costume. He is beaming madly and his emerald eyes are bright with happiness.

Titch's words don't calm me down at all, if anything they scare me more. I am still terrified of him ever since he ensured me I wasn't going to die by his hands, nor was anyone. I don't trust his remarkably trusting face.

I shoot a quick glance at him but when his emerald eyes meet my colourless ones I whip my head back to the front. _Don't look at him Paisley, _I tell myself, _he is only trying to kill you. He is trying to gain your trust, then he will kill you._

Titch sighs to himself but I ignore him.

The horses round a corner and a wave of cheering are clapping whooshes into me. The lights above me shine so brightly my eyes water. Flashes of lights come from the crowd as our chariot comes into view.

It's made from wood that looks like the stuff that walled the factory back home. It's old wood and it's rotting away, I can even smell the decaying. But Dia said old things are in fashion or something, so our chariot will supposedly be 'popular'.

The horses that pull us are a deep chocolaty brown and their manes and tails are a deep night sky black. The tails are plaited with strips of material that cascade like the strands of hair they are tied to, just like my hair is. No one guides or leads them; they just know which way to go.

I am amazed by the beauty and grace of these animals. They are so different to anything I have ever seen. They move so gracefully and smoothly, as if they are gliding across clouds. Their shiny coats glimmer as they trot and they manes blow in the summer night breeze.

With a slight shake of my head I am brought away from my captivation of these horses and I realise where I am; in the Capitol, riding through the street on horses as every person in Panem watch me. Every. Person. In. Panem.

I feel my knees give in under the small weight of my bones and I fall on my knees to the slowly deteriorating wood.

"Paisley?" Titch's voice calls from somewhere far far away.

I close my eyes and travel many miles to my home. My small burrow under a loose floorboard in a factory but it offers me no sanctuary. There I am just lonely, and here I am crowded.

I fling my eyes open and press my lips to each other tight. I shoot my head to the side and see I am only meters away from a cheering crowd.

I feel the cool hands of Titch wrap around my arm and I squeal as I shake him off of me.

"Paisley, I was just trying to help," he says soothingly.

"I don't want your help," I mutter, "I don't want anyone's help."

"Okay then," He says sadly. I know that all he wants to do is be someone that I can turn to when I am scared but how can I trust him? What do I know about this boy anyway? All I know is that I have to die if he wants to live; I can't trust someone when that is standing in front of any future friendship.

The rest of the Opening Ceremony goes past in a terrifying blur. I stand on the edge of my chariot, willing to stay as far away from Titch as possible without falling onto the candy coloured pebble road.

All the chariots are lined up when we enter the main area of the city. The President comes out and gives a speech, then we are ushered away to meet back up with our Mentors and Escorts.

"Oh, Paisley! Are you okay deary?" Dia asks the second I step off the chariot.

I nod shakily, still a little frazzled from the giant crowd.

"Oh, we were all so concerned when you collapsed, but you fought on!" She says embracing me.

I smile as I feel her warms arms wrap around my cool body, chilled from the breeze. I nuzzle my face into her ever-changing coloured hair which is now a warm inviting pinkish colour.

_I love having a friend, _I think.

I am released from her hug and Dia gives me a sparkly smile that I return without hesitation.

"Why can't I get some tributes who aren't completely hopeless_?_" I hear Rella rant from behind me, finding my performance on the chariots of dismal quality. It's not like she did anything to help, she just told me not to pass out. I didn't really succeed with that one too much. . .

"Now, now, Rella," Dia says rubbing my shoulders, "If you think about it Paisley collapsing wasn't all that bad. People will remember her."

"For being the sook that passed out." she say matter-of-factly.

Titch hovers behind me as Dia leads us back to the Training centre and takes us into the dining room for dinner. I request shyly for a plate of sprinkled cookies with nothing spread before us taking my fancy. Dia calls for someone to fetch it for me straight away and a small boy arrives in minutes with a platter of the colourful cookies.

"Thank-you," I mutter as I take the plater from the boy. He gives me a small nod and I realise it is the black haired boy from my room.

I try to peer under his long blank fringe to find out what he is thinking through his eyes, but they are hidden well; I wonder how he can see.

He bows his head and shuffles away.

"Why is he so quiet?" I ask Dia in a whisper.

"He is an Avox, dear," she replies, her eyes following the boy as he leaves the room. "They are traitors of the Capitol. They have strange things done to their tongue so they can't talk."

"That's horrible."

"It truly is," Dia says, "But what is done cannot be undone. He will be silent for his life."

I shoot a look at the boy as he fades away past the door. No wonder he didn't cry out when he fell over after I scared him; he couldn't.

"Well Paisley, I think it is best you get to sleep, you have a big day tomorrow. You need to be rested."

I nod and head off to bed, taking the biscuits with me. I nibble on them as I find a comfortable pair of soft and fuzzy clothes that I plan to sleep in. They warm me instantly and I feel my eyelids grow heavy. I yawn loudly and stumble to my bed where I lay on top of the covers in a doze. I fall asleep with sprinkle crumbs still sitting on my lips.

I awake hours later to the pitch black of the night, with a high pitched scream cracking through the dark air. I instantly begin to freak out but I don't know the real reason for it.

The scream goes on and on, not breaking for air for what feels like hours. My body goes ridged with fear but I don't know what to do. The warm clothes I wear turn to ice that freezes my body still and my lips tremble in the chill. I want to escape but the screaming is coming from the hall; and that is my only exit.

I look around into the darkness desperately and cling onto the blankets I lay on. I breathe quick and rapid breaths as the screaming ticks on.

Then there is a small _click _and I am blinded by a bright white light that illuminates my bedroom. The door opens and the screaming becomes louder before it is muted by the door closing again.

The black haired Avox boy comes walking in. His eyes on the ground and holding a tray with a jug of sparkling water on it. He approaches me with quick short steps and holds out a piece of rosy pink paper for me.

I take it with a careful hand and open it to find glittering loopy writing etched inside it.

_Paisley,_

_ I am not allowed to visit you during the night. I knew Rella would be screaming, she has done it every night since she became Victor. Don't worry about it, you are completely safe. I told the Avox boy to bring you this when the screaming started, it will calm you, don't be afraid._

_ Sleep well dear._

_ Dia, x._

I look up and see the pale hand of the boy sitting in front of my eyes. In his palm sits a small oval tablet the colour of a blue pastel. I look at it strangely as the boy holds me out a glass of water. He silently holds the tablet to his lips that signals that I swallow it.

I hold out my palm and he slides the tablet into it. I roll the tablet between my fingers as I hold it to my face.

I don't know what it does or why I need it, but Dia told me to take it, and I trust her, so I should listen.

Another scream pierces the air as I bring the tablet to my lips and a quiver of fear flushes through me. I swallow the tablet and quickly wash it down with water before Rella can scream again.

The effect is instant. I feel my muscles release and my worries fall from my head like rain falls from the sky. My eyes fall heavy and I am suddenly filled with a warmth so cozy I fall back in my bed and fall instantly to sleep.

I dream of colours and shapes. They don't mix together to become objects, instead they stay suspended. Hovering in my vision. They move in eerie and irregular ways, as if they are trying to join to make a picture but cant. They are trapped as meaningless shapes. Unable to fuse to have meaning. They twist and turn as sweet music is played.

Everything is warm and happy and calm. There is no danger here. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear.

The happiness stays with me a few minutes after I wake but it slowly fades as reality hits me.

"Wake up sleepy head!" I hear Dia chirp at the door, "Breakfast is ready!"

I nod to myself and head out the door, down the hall and into the dining room where the vast collection of breakfast food is set out before me. Rella and Dia are in the room, as well as Titch. The Avox boy stands in the corner of the room dressed in white and being as silent as ever. His eyes are on the ground and covered by his fringe like they always are.

I find myself serving strange flat round things onto my plate that Dia calls _pancakes_ and then she offers a variety of toppings to cover it in. I choose the most colourful options; the bright red of strawberries, the gold warmth of honey, the rainbow whirl of sprinkles.

"Did the tablet help?" Dia asks.

I nod quickly as I tuck into the amazing food. Dia smiles

"Thought it would," she says, "Do you know what you are doing today?"

"Um, Ariel said I was _training_- or something like that. I don't _really _know what it is though."

"Yes, you are training," Dia replies, smiling. "I'll be taking you down to the Training Room. You will be with all the other Tributes and you'll spend your time learning survival things that will help you in the Games."

"The other Tributes?" I say nervously, "I don't think I really want to be with them."

"You don't have a choice," Rella snaps from the other end of the table.

"Oh," I say quietly, slinking back into my chair at the sound of Rella's voice, my mind flashing back to where she shoved me through the door of the remake centre.

"It's not bad, Paisley. Tributes aren't allowed to physically fight anyone, so you are perfectly safe. And Titch will be there to look after you," Dia reassures.

"Yep!" Titch says heightening himself on the chair, "I'll take care of you."

I look at Titch, unsure.

"Now, Rella, Aren't you supposed to discuss the angle these two are supposed to play?" Dia offers.

Rella shoots her a look, "These kids don't need an angle. Why waste my time? Heck, why waste theirs? They don't have much left so they better appreciate every second."

"Oh," Dia says a little shocked, "I don't think that's very fair, Rella."

"C'mon, Dia! We both no these kids have _no _chance! A twelve year old wimp and a fifteen year old optimist that is refusing to kill anyone? They'll be dead first day. I tried bothering with them at the start, but my effort is just being wasted."

My eyes flick back to Dia as she tries to stand up for us. "It's not fair to say that. They have as chance as any!"

"Whatever you say," she retorts sarcastically, stabbing her knife into her stack of sausages and briskly leaving the room. I hear her gliding down the doorway saying- "No-one wins by chance," Then she is gone.

When the room is left hanging in the silence of the Avox's Dia finally speaks.

"Don't listen to her, kids," She says, "Titch, there is nothing wrong with caring about other people. And Paisley, there is noting wrong with being scared or frightened. People _can _win by chance, it's all about luck. You can be the most skilled person in Panem and still die in the Games. So you both have a chance."

I know she is just saying that to make me feel better because I know it's not true. Sure, luck would play a part in it, but the Victors I have seen roaming the Training Centre aren't small, or weak or scared. They are all tough and big. Hard eyes and stern lips. None of them won by luck.

After I finish breakfast and get changed, Dia escorts Titch and I down the elevator, where she presses a button labels 'T'. She tries to make Titch and I talk but I don't play my part. Titch is more then willing to answer Dia's questions and throw some at me, but I stay to the side of the elevator. As far away from Titch as possible. Keeping quiet and trying to mentally prepare myself for the next hours that are sure to be hell.

"This is your stop," Dia says indicating we leave the elevator.

I bite my lips as the doors split and reveal the silver room that lies before me. Everything gleams in the metallic silver hue the entire room gives off. The colour is beautiful, but for some reason I don't like it. It's _too _artificial, _too manufactured._

"Off you get," she says giving my shoulders a little shove and I stumble out the door.

A few eyes flick towards me from the Training Centre. The other tributes. Sizing up their competition.

"It's okay, Paisley. I'm here for you," Titch says warmly.

"I don't need you," I say extremely quietly, afraid if I talk to loud I will set of some sort of trigger that will make the giant tributes attack.

One girls looks like she is going to rip off my face right here and now. Her teeth are gritted and her face is positively rat-like. Pointed nose, thin face and mousy brown hair. From her neck down though she is anything but rat-like. She is huge. Muscles packed into her skin and bursting from her clothes.

A boy next to her has blonde feather like hair and a face like rock. One girl is just pure muscle and beauty. A boy with biceps as big as my entire body. All with snarls and creased eyebrows. All deadly, all ruthless. And all have the potential to be my killer.

I try to slink back into the elevator and disappear back to my floor but I find my back hitting the silver door. I turn quickly and see that the elevator is gone- already shooting upwards. The doors have closed and I am trapped here, with all these big scary people.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" says the rat-faced girl, her lips forming a grin and her arms crossing. "A little one, what fun!"

The people surrounding her all chuckle in agreement as they size me up.

I bite my lip in terror then quickly slide away from the door and slink my way around the pack of people who are all forming a circle around a tall muscular woman. The woman gives me a questioning look that makes me take my place in the circle too; as far away from any person as possible.

"The name is Atala," says the woman, "Welcome to training. You have three days here where you can learn everything from swordsmanship and archery to edible plants, shelters and strategy building. Each station you go to will have a trainer who is specially trained in that particular field and is there to offer you tips and advice on that station. Listen carefully and learn fast because all of these stations are vital when it comes to the area. After the three days of training you will have your private Gamemakers Session where you will be judged on your survival and combat abilities. There is to be _no _fighting amongst you Tributes, and anyone caught in physical contact will be sent straight back to their rooms and wont return until their Gamemakers session. Is that all clear?"

All the Tributes nod.

"Very well, off you go."

Just like that all the Tributes are flying off in different directions. All the big scary ones are swiftly making their way to the giant sparkling weapons and the weaker, smaller looking tributes are wandering in circles, pondering over what station to go to.

"Off you go, girly," Atala says, noticing that I haven't moved, "You cant waste time here."

I nod stiffly then turn on my heel to get a good look at all the stations. Most of them have a tribute or two lingering in front of the trainers. Contemplating as to whether it is a good station to try. Other tributes have already thrown themselves into work. Tying knots, sorting plants, starting fires.

I scan the room and notice a station at the very corner. It can hardly be seen behind the fake foliage of the tree climbing station that stands in front of it, but I can just make out the old man sitting there, his hands clutching to a piece of paper that he occasionally writes on.

I decide to go there. It is out of the way and no tributes will see me there so I will feel safe.

My feet carry me across the room, my eyes set firmly on the floor in front of my feet. I try not to be noticed, I try to be ignored, but it doesn't work.

"Ah, the little one's come to play," comes a voice to the side of me. I dare not look up.

"Oi, don't ignore her," says a different, lower voice.

"Yes, little girl. Don't you dare ignore me, or there will be trouble," says the first voice again.

I quicken my feet and keep my eyes on the ground, my heart beating fast in my chest. Soon, the tip of a very large shoe blocks the vision of the ground and I am forced to stop.

My eyes follow up the boot, up the leg and into the eyes of the rat faced girl.

She smirks, "District Eight, huh? You are always one of the first to go. You have had. . . two victors? Three? _Pfft. _Poor effect on your part. Bit of a contrast against Two's eighteen victors. Soon to be nineteen of course."

"Don't be so sure," says a boy who appears next to her, "I'm planning a win for Four this year."

"Good luck with that," says the rat faced girl. "So, Eight. What's your name?"

I don't reply.

"We have a quiet one do we? What fun!" she shrieks excitedly, "Quiet Tributes always have louder screams. . ."

"Eris, we are wasting time, lets leave this Eight girl alone and have a go at some of these weapons!" says the boy with extremely large biceps but a blank looking face.

"_I'll_ say when we are ready to go, Cobalt," the Eris snaps back, her rat like teeth barred.

"Hey, I just think we shouldn't be wasting our time! We have plenty of time to torture her in the arena, no point doing it now." he replies.

"I'm with Cobalt," Says the blonde beauty, "I'm itching to use that bow over there."

"Shut your mouth, Charm," Eris replies, "Go play with your silly little weapons then. I don't need them. I don't need shiny sharp things to kill. . ." She sends and low growl in my direction, twiddling her fingers and flexing her muscles ever so slightly..

The pack of tributes stomp away looking a tad fearfully towards Eris. It is obvious that she is the leader of this little group.

"Listen here, Eight," Eris says looking down over me, "I am just letting you know that I am going to be the one to kill you. You're the youngest here and I take great pleasure in making blood pour from fresh hearts. So watch your back. Because soon I'll have a knife sticking out it."

Then she gives me a small grin and marches away. Leaving me still with fear and tears washing into my eyes.

With one quick movement I fling myself into a run and make my way towards the elevator. A few people look at me strangely but I ignore them. When I reach the silver doors I bang on a button with an arrow pointing up several times. There is a small _bing! _And the doors open. I dive inside, bash the close button and find myself flying upwards.

Another _bing! _and the doors open at the Eighth level. I run down the corridor, run into my room and cry for myself.

Dia comes in and pats my back. She asks me what happened but I don't have the energy to tell her. Rella tells me off for leaving training and says that my minuscule chance of surviving at least five minutes in the arena has just gone down the drain.

All I wanted was to mind my own business and spend my time in training appreciating the little time I have left. But no, I cant even have that. The stupid Capitol and their stupid Careers have to take everything from me.

I cry myself to sleep and skip dinner. I don't wake until the next day. I've been here two days and I have already made enemies. Yep, I'm doomed.

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><p><em>Hope you enjoyed! I'd simply adore it if you reviewed!<em>


	6. Strategy

_Hey, sorry! I've had this chapter ready for a while but I just couldnt get the wording right so I kept changing things here and there. Shorter chapter then usual! I am a bit mad at myself for making it considerably smaller, but it just didn't work if I made it longer, and it was just the perfect time to stop it, so I did._

_ I'm sorry if these chapters feel like filler's, but they really aren't. I am just trying to set up events for the future. . . so all these 'filler chapters' aren't really fillers, they are just the seeds I am skilfully planting that should bloom into amazingly eventful actions! :P_

_ Hope you enjoy, and if you review I will love you all forever!_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Six- Strategy <strong>_

"Paisley, Deary, you cant stay in bed forever. You have to train," Dia says as I sob into my pillow. "I know they were horrible to you yesterday, but they were just trying to scare you. Today they will spend all their time showing off, it's what the Careers do"

"B-but-" I start.

"No buts," Dia says sternly, "You _need _to learn how to find food and things, it's a necessity."

It takes me a while but I soon lift my hand from my tear-stained pillow and find myself getting dressed and having breakfast, preparing for today's ordeal.

Titch is already digging into the food but Rella is a no show. After a few minutes Titch questions Dia about her absence.

"Oh, um, Rella is down in the hospital wing on the bottom floor," she replies. "She is looking for medicines for her. . . _night episodes."_

"She was screaming again last night," I say.

Dia nods, "She does every night. Ever since she became Victor."

"Do you know why?" Titch asks.

Dia sighs, "Well, Titch, Dear. The Games change people. . ."

I can tell Titch wants to know more but he doesn't press Dia on the matter. Dia pokes her food around on her plate uncomfortably before changing the subject. "Titch, what did you learn yesterday?"

"Oh! I had a go at sword fighting. I wasn't that good but the trainer said I had potential. Then I built a few fires and climbed some trees. I am trying to cover as much ground as I can."

"Good job!" Dia says, "How about you follow Titch around, Paisley? He will be able to teach you a few things."

I shake my head, "No, I know what I am doing."

"Well that's wonderful!" she replies looking at her jewel encrusted watch, "Oh, we better go, or you'll be late."

We are ushered down the hall, into the elevator and are shooting downwards.

There's the _bing! _The door opens and I take a deep breath as I step off. Tributes are already down to training and they flick their eyes to the elevator as we enter but quickly turn back to their weapons, fires and ropes.

I sigh in relief when I see Eris- the rat faced girl- turn back to her sword fight after glancing at me. Dia was right, the pack has moved on from scaring the hell out of me.

"I'm going to throw some knives, you sure you don't want to come with me?" Titch asks.

I shake my head and tip toe away from him as fast as my feet will take me. Titch and me near knives? No thanks. For all I know he could stab me when my back was turned or something. . .

After a few minutes of spinning around looking for a station to go to I decide to go back to where I was yesterday- the station in the corner, concealed behind the foliage of the tree station and empty except for the old man.

It takes me a while to get there; having to manoeuvre my way around the weapon stations and other tributes, but I soon find myself standing in front of the old man who has his bald head looking down at his note pad that he jots on.

I stay silent and wait for him to look up and notice me.

"Hello," he says, eyes still on his notepad.

"Hello," I reply quietly as a mouse.

The old man smiles before setting aside his note pad and look up at me. "I am Elden, nice to meet you."

"What do you learn at this station?" I ask. All the other stations have things scattered on the walls and tables and floors that make it obvious as to what is taught there. But her there is only Elden and his note pad.

"This is the strategy station," he says with a smile, "Here you learn tricks and stragergies that may help you to survive. Tributes don't come here because they think it's a waste of time. They prefer busying themselves with their shiny weapons and pretty paints. If I were you I would too, you wont learn much of use here."

Elden picks back up his notepad and continues writing. This is my cue to walk away but I don't. Instead I plonk myself on the ground in front of him and wait.

Elden looks back up from his notepad and frowns. His wrinkles more exposed then ever. He is so different from everyone I have met in the Capitol, all of them shades of pink and blue and green, but Elden is grey all over, like the people back home from Eight. Grey hair and greying skin. He reminds me of home, and even though I hate my home and I hate the dullness of grey I want to stay here.

Elden chuckles to himself when he looks at me, "Ah, you're one of _those _tributes. There is one every few years."

I raise my eyebrows questioningly.

"Always one who stops and listens," he says, mostly to himself, "Who doesn't follow the crowd and does their own thing. Every few years one tribute comes along, wanting to get away from the crowd, a bit scared, a bit confused. What's your name child?"

"Um, Paisley," I say quietly, not exactly understand what he is talking about.

"From District Eight, are you? I can tell by your name, all the Districts have distinct names that set them apart. District One has the stupid pretty names, District Two with the Roman names. District three and thei- Oh, but of course you don't want to hear about that! I have a terrible habit of popping facts into everything I say. You're here to learn, am I right?"

I grin and nod.

I cant help but find the way he talks so different to the way other Capitol people do. It's so . . . _formal. _Everyone else is so lazy with their words, adding in weird slang and talking in short sentences as if they have all the time in the world. But Elden, well he is detailed and proper, like he isn't from the Capitol at all. He talks like he is from the Districts; where time is precious.

"Well, I am afraid that you won't be learning anything really _practical _here. This station is all about strategy. About thinking outside the box and doing things differently. Are you sure that's what you want to learn?"

"I think it will be more helpful then anything else here," I say truthfully.

"I regret to say that I agree with you. The Games aren't fair in that way, are they? Putting a twelve year old like yourself against brutish eighteen year olds. But I guess there is no point fighting it." Elden sighs, "Shall we get down to work?"

I nod eagerly and Elden sets aside his notepad, shakily lifts himself on the chair then pops himself next to me. . .

We spend the next few hours talking about me. About my fears, likes, thoughts, morals. I don't really know what these things have to do with anything but he insists it's important. After that we move onto the important part- the Games.

"It's all about being in the right place at the right time," Elden tells me, "The Gamemakers are watching your every step, and if you step too far in one direction, they can have you turning back the other way- towards your death- in two seconds flat. You have to _think _like the Gamemakers and try to figure out what they want, then find ways to avoid what they want to happen happening to you, do you understand?"

"Yeah," I say slowly. Its a whole lot to understand and wrap my head around, but Elden goes over it a couple more times so I truly comprehend.

"They will try to move you towards other Tributes so their will be a fight. What you have to do is avoid that. Most tributes try to put as much distance as they can between them and others right from the beginning, but that is a waste of energy. The Careers are the biggest threat and that's where the good fights happen, so you'll be herded there. What _you _need to do is get as close to the Career camp as you can and stay there."

"But if I stay close to them they will find me," I say.

"No, they wont," Elden assures me, "The Careers are the same every year. They camp out at the Cornucopia and cover wide distances when they hunt. They don't hunt near their camp because they know tributes are too scared to be there."

It goes on like this for hours, he explains complex ideas to me and I question them until I understand. All of them are about doing things other people don't and thinking differently.

"So now you know some survival strategies," Elden says after hours of talking, "Now we will be moving on to how to eliminating your opponents."

I gulp.

"Now there is a very quick and easy trick to winning these games, Paisley," he says dropping his voice, "You have to wipe out your opponents quickly. The longer the Game goes the harder it gets. Food becomes scarce and injuries get worse. You have to end the Games as quickly as you can."

"But I cant do that," I say, "I cant fight, I cant kill, I am not even going to survive the Bloodbath."

"Yes. Yes you will," Elden says sternly, "You just have to listen to me."

That's when a lunch bell rings and a woman comes around and begins to usher everyone into a room.

I frown at Elden, not really wanting to leave him. He is one of the few people I feel comfortable around here in the Capitol besides Dia. He doesn't scare me in the way that everyone else does. . . and he is the only one that has really bothered with me.

"Don't worry Paisley," he says, "I'll still be here when you come back."

"Any advice for lunch?" I ask.

He chuckles, his wrinkles creasing with his eyes, "Actually, yes. Watch the others, look out for the alliances. . ."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you after lunch, just get going."

The woman who was directing everyone looks at me and shakes her head with her hands on her hips. I bite my lip then quickly rush past her into the dining room.

I sigh in relief when I see there is enough tables for me to have one to myself. I wait at the door for a moment whilst everyone finds their seat before I collect my food and sit at the table as far away from anyone as I can get.

Then I do as Elden said- I watch.

It's already obvious there is an alliance between the 'career pack' of One, Two and Four Eris- the girl from Two- is evidently the leader of them and bosses them around. All of them talk loudly and often throw out threats or insults to the tributes surrounding them.

Most of the other tributes sit alone- like me- or close to their District Partner, like the tributes from Five, Six and Eleven do.

Then there is the girl from Ten, and the boys from Three and Seven sitting together, laughing amongst themselves. I find this puzzling and reminds myself to tell Elden about it.

I see Titch throw a couple of glances my way, I can tell he is contemplating heading over here. I just hope he doesn't.

Another bell rings and the Careers leap off their table and rush back into the Training Room to get their hands back onto their precious weapons. Other Tributes- Like the Eleven's and Twelve's- take their time to lick the remaining food from their plates.

I wait until everyone is gone before I move and make my way back to Elden at the Strategy station.

A man dressed in a purple robe stops me on my way. He looks me up and down before he consults her notepad and purses his lips.

"Where were you yesterday training, girl?" he says sternly.

I don't reply.

"Hm," he says consulting his notepad again "It seems you have spent your time at the strategy station I see. I would move on to something more practical if I were you. . ."

I frown at him and wrinkle my nose before turning on my heel walking in a dignified way to Elden. I hear the man scoff before furiously writing down on his notepad.

As I approach Elden shakes his head and tuts at me, "That was stupid of you, girl."

"Why?" I say.

"He was a Gamemaker. He controls _everything _that happens to you. You don't want to get on the bad side of him"

"He told me it was best if I moved on to a different station," I say.

"Yes, yes, everyone thinks my station is a waste of time. Many Gamemakers have appealed to get it removed from training so they can get a new ballistic knife station to replace it."

"Why hasn't it been replaced?"

"The president thinks of it as a tradition. Only a few Victors that have visited this station have won; but they were all very interesting games. The President thinks removing it could be a loss."

"What do you mean by interesting?" I ask.

"Well, one of the Victors- Beetee, from Three, won after some tips I gave him. Sure, he had some skills he attained from his District, but he often comes down to tell me that if it wasn't for me he wouldn't have been crowned. . . bless him."

"What did he do?"

"He toyed with basic instinct to kill the tributes. He knew to eliminate in numbers- the more killed in one shot, the better- then he used some wiring, the water supply and some of my tips to kill all the tributes at the same time." As he explains this he flips through his notepad, "And that is what you are going to have to do. . ."

I shake my head, "I can't do that. . . I don't know how-"

"I am going to teach you. Did you take notice of the alliances like I said?"

I nod and explain to him about what I observed. He knows about the Careers but he was surprised when I told him about the Ten girl with the Seven and Eleven boys.

"What you have to do is- when you are in the arena- find a way to send your attacks towards these tributes. That way there is more of a chance of you killing them. Getting two birds with one stone, even."

"How, though? I can't fight, and I definitelycouldn't take on those giant-"

"Lead an attack to them. . . if the Gamemakers send something on you, lead it to them. If you are being chased, run towards the Career base. If you see an opportunity, take it."

And it goes like this for hours, until the day grows old and legs are sore from sitting on the ground listening to Elden's words. My brain is aching after I try to comprehend everything Elden says.

Another bell rings and we are dismissed and sent back to our levels. Yet again I wait till everyone else is gone- even Titch before I get into the elevator and press down the number '8'.

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><p>As I shoot upwards I stop and think about why I am even bothering with learning all this strategy. Not like it is going to come into use anyway- I know I am going to die in the bloodbath, by waste my time?<p>

I think that maybe it's because I want to tell Dia that I am actually doing something in training, so I don't disappoint her. But deep inside I know it's not the reason. Maybe it's that I don't want to die knowing I didn't do something to at least _try _and prevent it. . .

Dia is over the moon I have actually learnt something, and even Rella is somewhat glad I am trying- in her own strange twisted little way.

"Not that it is going to help you at all," she snarls, "But I guess it's all I can ask from you anyway."

I go to sleep a lot more happy then I did the night before. There is the warmth in my stomach that makes me smile as I drift off to sleep. I can't help but be proud that I am actually doing something for myself, even if it's small and even if it won't change anything, I am still over the moon.

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><p><em>So, review it? Subscibe? favourites even? pleaaaaasseee<em>


	7. Last Night

_So, longer chapter then usually. But I crammed the last training session, the gamemakers session, the pre-interveiw thing and the interview into one chapter so we would be in the games by the next one. I am really looking forward to the next chapter! Enjoy!_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 7- Last Night<strong>_

Today's training is pretty much the same as yesterday. I listen to Elden as he rambles on about how to conquer the Games. At lunch I observe the other tributes before I swiftly return to Elden's station to talk more.

After he explains to me how to spot a Gamemaker trap he moves onto talking about my Private Gamemaker session where I will be judged on my skills to survive. "I am sure your Mentor will give you some sort of angle to play but-" Elden begins.

My shaking head cuts him off, "Rella isn't very interested in helping me."

"Why ever not?" he says perplexed.

"She was enthusiastic at the start- more than willing to help, but then I guess she saw what a snivelling mess I was, then she gave up."

"Ah, I see," He says, "Understandable I guess, most Mentors aren't really as mentally stable as they used to be. . ."

"Mmm," I reply; not really knowing an appropriate way to respond.

"Maybe you should go and learn some knots or traps? They could really hel-"

"No," I cut him off, "I am not leaving this station."

"I see," Elden says with a bit of disappoint creeping into his voice. I guess he wants me to get some practical help. . . "I guess it doesn't really matter what you do in your session anyway. You are lying low and staying unnoticed. That can be your angle in the Interviews. You are going to be shy and quiet, understand?"

"That wont be too hard," I say with a giggle.

"As for the privates sessions. . ." he stops to think for a minute. "Well, I won't be here as a Trainer because you can't show any physical talents at this station that require a Trainers assistance. . . But I guess if you _really _don't want to show the Gamemakers anything I can leave my notepad here and you can come a read through it. It has some more strategy techniques in it and you can revise and remember."

"Oh, yes!" I say, nearly bouncing.

"That's settled then. Now, let's get started."

And so we do. I spend the next few hours having strategic plans being drilled into me. It's tiring to wrap my head around but Elden keeps find new and different ways to explain them so I understand. After a while he begins to quiz me; he gives me different scenarios and I have to weave my way out of the problem. It takes a while before I get the hang of it. Elden keeps on insisting I thing outside the box and make things more intricate and complicated. He reminds me to destroy in numbers and go against the obvious answer. Eventually, after answering ten questions in a row to his standards he leans back in his chair and smiles.

"I think you have the hang of it, young lady," he says.

I can't stop the grin blooming onto my face. The smile warms up my whole body and something inside me rises up. At first I'm confused but then I realise that it's hope. Finally I have done something that gives me a chance in these games.

"Now run along. Time to go back to your floor. I'll see you at training tomorrow. Remember, the Gamemakers may throw a very nasty things in your direction when you come in because you wont be the most entertaining, but just live through it. I'll leave my notepad on this chair, just flick through it and trying to cram in as much as you can."

I nod my head once before a bell rings off and the Tributes begin to be herded back to their floors.

"Good-bye Elden," I say with a smile.

"Good-bye Paisley," he replies with a smile back.

I turn to leave before I quickly remember something. I turn on my heel and go swiftly back to Elden where I give him a brief hug. "Thank-you," I say, "For everything."

"That's okay, young one," he says with a pat on my shoulder, "Now run along."

Dia is there to greet me when the elevator door opens and I step off. She immediately takes me down to the dining room insisting that there is important things that need to be attended to. I turn into the room to see Titch already sitting there and Rella sitting at the far end of the table looking less than impressed.

"Now," Dia says, signalling I take a seat. "We have some important things to discuss. Tomorrow you have your private Gamemaker session and it is the time to really show all you've got. Rella, what are your plans?"

Rella raises her eyebrow at Dia and laughs a little. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that I am not interested in helping these two living corpses," she says so harshly that I flinch.

"Now, now, Rella, it's you job to-"

"No, it's not," Rella interrupts, "I was promised a life of safety and ease after I won my Games. No one said anything about having to babysit. And I am sick of it, Dia, I am sick of having kids shipped to me every year where I put all my time and effort into helping them to just have it thrown away. I don't want that any more, Dia. I am through with this. These two kids are dead and they know it! You heard Paisley on the train - "_You can't help me survive, no one can." ' _she mimics me, "And Titch, hah! Don't even get me started on him! There is nothing I can do to help them so there isn't any point trying. I'm done." She slams her knife and fork on the table and walks briskly from the room.

It's deathly silent for a few seconds before Dia sighs and turns to Titch and I. "I'm sorry about her, Dearies. You have to understand that she has been through a lot over the years and it's taken it's toll."

"Why doesn't one of the other Eight victors come instead?" Titch asks, "If she cant handle it why doesn't she stay in Eight?"

"She doesn't have a choice. . ." Dia says sadly, "Besides, your other three Victors have already spent their time in the Capitol. It's Rella's turn to mentor."

"But wouldn't it be better to share the burden?" Titch says, "To have all the Victors go and mentor together?"

"Maybe, but the Eight Victors have decided amongst themselves that there would only be one mentor at a time so they didn't have to _all _be in the Capitol. They prefer being in Eight, this place reminds them to much of what happened to them."

I personally think it's stupid. Why wouldn't they leave dull old Eight for this colourful palace? If I had the choice I would live in the Capitol forever.

"Well, seeing as Rella doesn't want to help I will have to plan out your Training strategy. Paisley, you first?" Dia says searching for a change of subject.

I shake my head, "No thanks, Dia. Me and Elden have planned out my Training."

"Oh," Dia says with a tinge of insult appearing in her speech but she wipes it away quickly. "Well, that's a good thing I guess. You can run off to bed then and I'll be getting you up early tomorrow. Get some good rest." She swoops down on me and gives a light kiss. The jewels on her lips tickle my cheek. "Run along!"

I am woken up at 8am to Dia's tinkling voice and blue hair standing over me. I laugh to myself at the thought of 8am being 'early'. Back in Eight I was awake at 5am at the least. That's what time the workers came into the factory to turn on the machines and the clinking and buzzing always roused me.

Breakfast is quick and uneventful. The food is as good as always and I cant help but think that the dishes are getting more and more colourful as the hours pass. . . I have a strange feeling Dia is requesting the brightest and prettiest of foods on my behalf.

We are stepped off the elevator and a Capitol attendant ushers through the dining room and into an adjoining room where we are to wait for our names to be called. Then we will spend 15 minutes showing the Gamemakers how we will win the Games; or in my case how I will lose.

Titch takes a seat next to me in the waiting room. I go to shuffle away from him but that would mean getting closer to the One, Two and four Tributes who are still going out of their way to shoot some nasty comment in my direction. I find it a relief when they are the first few to be called out I am in a room with tributes who are in the same position as me.

"So, what are you doing for your session, Paisley?" Titch asks me, trying to spark up a conversation but I just brush it off and ignore him.

Instead I do something Elden taught me. I watch the bonds in the group. . . The Ten girl and the Seven and Three boy are still sticking quite close to each other. I now notice that the Ten girl's sleek black hair, ruby red lips and bulging chest may have something to do with it. She is quite the looker and Seven and Three boy seem to agree.

Before I have time to notice, half the room of Tributes is gone and I hear my name being called. Titch wishes me a good luck as I get up but I ignore him and tip toe into the Training Centre.

It's weird, but with no other tribute in here the place seems so _big_. All the weapons are sitting comfortably on their shelves and there are no brutish tributes lurking around them. I feel so at peace without them in here and I cant help that think that maybe if we got to train privately I would have actually given the weapons a go. Shame it's too late now.

I cross the centre and feel the Gamemakers eyes following me as I do.

Elden's notepad sits on his chair at the strategy station just waiting for me. I smile when I see its slightly creased and tattered edges. I scoop it up and take a seat on the floor. A quick glace up at the Gamemakers shows that they are not impressed. Some are giving me unhappy looks and others have already moved onto their wine and roast knowing I am going to give a boring show.

I nod to myself then open the first page and read through Elden's notes and tactics. Some words are big and some sentences are smudged or blurry making them hard to read. On some pages there are diagrams so complex and tricky I just skip over them.

A timer goes off after ten minutes and a Gamemaker yells out at me telling me to do something interesting, but I try to block them out as I turn the page.

Soon I am turning to the last page of the notepad to see a fresh bit of paper, free of fingerprints and smudges. Words sparkle brightly at the bottom of the page that have been newly writ-

_ Even though you don't think you can; I know you can do this. Just remember everything I taught you and try your best. Thank-you for giving your time to learn from me. I believe in you, Paisley._

I cant help but grin at Elden's cursive signature at the bottom of his note. Just the fact he took the time to write me a parting message warms my insides. Even though I don't believe him, I am overjoyed he thinks I can win.

A buzzer goes off and the Gamemakers send me out of the room. There is a spring in my step as I walk over to the elevator.

Dia's questions engulf me the second the doors open as she asks me how I went. She doesn't seem annoyed at my approach and just waves it off before she ushers me down the hall for lunch. Rella is no where in sight. Dia says that she hasn't seen her since her little tiff last night.

Titch soon joins us and tells Dia and I that he did some sword training. He managed to chop up a few dummies decently but gave himself a pretty good slice on his thigh when he lost control after a particularly ferocious swing. Apparently the Gamemakers thought it was hilarious but Dia isn't impressed. She soon has Titch being whisked down to the Medical Centre on the bottom floor for treatment.

I finish up my dinner alone then go off to bed. Just as I pull myself into the sheets I am roused by the young dark haired Avox boy that brings the biscuits. I sit up in my bed and look to see if he is holding the biscuit tray but it's no where in sight.

He holds me out a note that I recognise as Dia's and I flip it open and read it.

_Come to the TV room_. It says simply.

I get myself up and make my way down the hall and into the TV room where Titch and Dia are waiting. I glance down at Titch's thigh that is wrapped up in white bandages.

"They wouldn't fix his leg properly," Dia says in a frustrated tone, "The Head Gamemaker wouldn't let him."

"Why did you want me?" I ask.

"Oh, we have to watch the scores. I would have come down to get me myself but I was helping Titch. Sorry."

I shrug it off then take a seat on the couch next to Dia. She tells us that Rella will still not be joining us. Then the show begins.

District One comes first. The girl- Charm- gets a nine whilst the boy- Cobalt- gets a ten. Dia tells me the Careers always get high scores ranging from about eight to ten. I cringe when Eris face appears on the screen, her rat-like face set in a smirk. She gets an eleven which- according to Dia- is a very rare occurrence. My heart sinks, she is more scary and powerful then I thought.

Apart from the District Two boy- Landus, and the two tributes from Four- Chelsea and Tyna, the rest of the tributes get pretty low scores. Titch gets a five which is low, but not unexpected.

Soon my name and picture is on the screen. My details are read out by the host including my age, weight and muscle ratio which is used for betting odds. Then my score appears; a one.

One. Apparently it's one of the lowest scores Panem has ever seen. According to the commentator even the most weak and emotional tributes are able to scrape a three at least. Ones are unheard of and no one has got one for about twenty years.

I knew I was going to do bad. . . but this, well, this is just sad.

Titch gives me a reassuring smile and says, "At least it wasn't a zero!"

Dia pats me on the back and says, "You tried your best, Dear."

I shrug it off then excuse myself to go back to my room where I dive onto my bed and begin to sob. I knew this was going to happen of course, but it still upsets me. Yesterday I had confidence and pride, but now- seeing my ability to win these games summed up in one number- I cant help but feel upset.

Dia comes in and hugs me like she did the other night when I was crying. I think she is getting a bit fed up over my tears although she doesn't show it. After a while I drift off to sleep . . .

When I wake up the next morning it's late. By the amount of sun streaming in the window it must be nearly lunchtime . . . I wonder why Dia let me sleep so late. I tumble out of bed and make my way down the hall where I bump into my colourful stylist who is drinking from a mug, her ever-changing hair turning into a twinkling sky blue.

"'Morning sleeping head!" Dia says brightly, "Sleep well?"

I nod in reply.

"Tonight's your interview," she says, "You are supposed to spend half the day with me and the other half with Rella preparing for it, but seeing as Rella is being _less _the cooperative we are skipping her session. I spent the morning with Titch so now it's your turn with me. Trust me, you are going to have a ball of fun!"

So we spend the next four hours having the most fun I think I ever had. Dia gets her hands on a box of goodies and we paint, draw, build and laugh our day away. I play tag with her, and hide and seek and we tell jokes and even sing and dance.

When it starts to get late Dia has to stop being my friend and take the role of Escort again. She takes me to the Remake room and tells me I am about to be prepared for my interviews. I immediately get scared but Dia calms me down and tells me there is nothing to worry about. She says that all of Panem will watch, but I just need to be myself. It doesn't matter if I freak out and freeze up because the audience just will think it's an angle.

The prep team all get straight to work when I come in. Washing me down, brushing my hair and painting my nails. Covering me in powders and dyes and patterns.

Xayla, Lilliarnia and Ariel all talk in lightning speed as they stencil swirling patterns down my arms and cover them in glitter. Xayla is still quite hostile towards me. Lilliarnia is very official and serious, bent on doing her job right. But Ariel is sweet. She asks me questions and generally takes an interest in me. She doesn't really concentrate on the shading she is supposed to be doing on my hands which makes Lilliarnia cluck at her and she has to eventually takes over.

A few hours later they lead me to the mirror where I see myself. My body is even more stunning then it was a few days ago on the chariot. My skin is dyed all different colours that create swirls going up and down my arms and legs then entwine into my fingers.

"Pike wants to keep up the paisley pattern theme," Lilliarnia says, "To go with your name again."

I take a closer look at the patterns to see that she is right. They are all water-droplet shapes, curling into each other- a paisley pattern.

They spend a few more ours patterning my eyelid with paisley swirls and sketching teeny swirls onto my lips. My hair is curled and covered in glitter and then a black bag is brought in that hold my dress. My prep team fight over taking it out of the bag but soon Lilliarnia is taking charge and unzipping the bag. I don't even get a glance at it before the dress is blocked by Xayla's dark skin and bright green feathery dress.

Soon the dress is being slipped over my head and I am being zipped up. A few adjustments here and there are done. Fix up a loose thread. Straighten up the hem. Replace a frill. Then the team step apart and I see myself in the mirror.

The dress is short, that's for sure. But I don't look skimpy, it ruffles out sort of like a tutu, layers upon layers of material all bunched together. The pattern matches my skin and eyes and lips- Paisley, all the colours of the rainbow. The top of it is simple; two thin straps hole it up and it hugs tightly to my chest.

"Pike changed your style angle," Lilliarnia says when she sees my expression. "He realised you were too little to pull off sexy or provocative. So he altered the dress a bit so now you look cute and innocent. Dia had a word in it of course. Pike couldn't help showing some skin though, it's his signature."

At that moment a booming male voice cuts through the air, "I'm here! I'm here!"

Then the scary dragon man that is my stylist comes in. His green skin looking as sick and scaly as ever. His eyes still an evil red and his nostrils still flaring with grey misty smoke coming out of them as he exhales.

He circles me, taking in every bit of my outfit. His taloned claws prod me every now and then as he adjusts the straps or fixes a ruffle. "That'll have to do," He says, "Not my usual style, but it will work."

He starts poking he out the door and down the hall into the dining room. Dia is waiting there in a jewelled diamond dress and giant glittering heels. She compliments me non stop when I come in, saying how beautiful I look. Then she looks down at her crystal watch and sees that we are running late. We pick up Titch on our way back down the hall then we are taken downstairs- put into a car and driven a few minutes down the road before we are shoved out and pushed into another building, down some halls, through some doors and into a room where all the other tributes are waiting.

Everyone looks gorgeous. The beauty from District One- Charm looks breathtaking in a sequinned dress. The boy, Cobalt is handsomely confident in his white shining suit. All the make-up in the world couldn't hide the rat-faced scowl of Eris who snarls when I walk in. The pretty girl from Ten is having all her good features shown off with her dress that hugs tight to her skin and sits high on her thighs.

I slink into the shadows when eyes turn to see the new arriving tributes. Dia comes along and pushes me into place along the line of tributes in order we are to enter the stage. She says I have three minutes with Caesar where he will ask me questions about myself. She tells me to answer honestly and I'll be fine. A kiss on the forehead then she is gone.

It's not long before Capitol people dressed in black are entering the room with little black microphones hovering above their lips and clipboards in their hands. They straighten the line of Tributes then lead us all up some stairs and into yet another room. A big TV is in front of it- on the screen stands a man in a midnight blue suit that twinkles. He introduces himself to the audience as Caesar Flickermen at is replied with a roar of cheers. The clipboard people appear again and lead Charm away and up some stairs where she is met with thunderous applause.

She then appears on the screen we watch. Her sequins shimmer in the stage lighting and Caesar begins to drill her with questions. About her family, her District, her special talents. Personally I think she is a bit of a ditz. The way she stupidly giggles and flicks her hair makes her seem so fake.

It goes on like this. Three minutes for every person where they have to make the audience love them. Everyone takes and angle- Mean, confident, smart, innocent. Caesar is a real help. He keeps a conversation going, steers them in a direction that casts each tribute in a positive light. If it wasn't for his pale face and his grey eyes, hair and lips I think I may had even liked him.

Soon- before I have time to prepare for it- my name is being called.

One of the clipboard people lightly push me out the door where I stumble onto the stage floor. The lights are blinding and I have to blink a few times to fix my vision. Caesar comes towards me, takes my hand and leads me to a chair.

"Welcome Paisley, welcome," he says, indicating I take a seat. "Now I must say, you look positively _adorable _in your dress."

He stops talking and looks at me expectantly. It takes me a moment to realise he is waiting for a response. "Oh. Um. Y-yes. It's p-pr-pretty." I say very quietly unable to control the tremble in my lips.

"No need to be nervous," Caesar says, noticing my state. "We are all very friendly here in the Capitol."

I nod, but say no more. My mind races as I try to comprehend what is happening. . . all this emotion is welling up inside of me that I just want to collapse onto the ground and cry. Caesar's pearly smile glows at me reassuringly, surely he realises how terrified I am.

"Well, tell us a bit about yourself; your home, what's it like back in Eight?" he asks.

"Dull," I whisper.

"It sounds much different to here then. Do you find the Capitol dull?"

I shake my head. "N-no," I stammer.

"Do you like dull things?"

I shake my head again.

"Oh, well then, I take it you aren't too keen on this years Games colours," He says indicating to his grey hair and lips, "I do admit I did prefer the violent purple I had last year. This grey makes me look like a grampa!"

There are a few laughs from the audience. But nothing compared to the cackles the boy from three was getting as he told jokes and danced around. A quick glance out to the audience shows that people are slowly beginning to lose interest. Subtle movements like a sigh or leaning back in their seats shows me they are already forgetting me. I know that I need to start talking, start making an impact and get noticed, but I don't know how. Staying in the shadows is all I know.

"And what do you have waiting for you back at home? Anything you miss?"

I half nod, half shake my head. I much prefer the colour and life that is here in the Capitol. But District Eight is my home, no matter how dull and cruel it is; it's where I belong. I try to think about what is waiting for under the floorboard in the factory. No family or friends. No belongings. The only thing I ever owned was my yellow blanket- but that was taken away from me when I was reaped.

"Nothing is waiting for me," I say quietly, looking down into my lap.

And it goes on like this for another 2 minutes. Caesar asks me a question and I either shake or nod my head and occasionally pop a word or two in. Caesar struggles to keep the interview going. He tries to get me talking about my hobbies, interests, talents but I am no help. He has nothing to work with. He's sweet and patient with me, but that's now enough. I swear I hear him sigh in relief when the buzzer sounds.

Dia is already waiting for me when I get off the stage. I tell her I want to leave and go back to my room straight away but she says we have to stay until the interviews are finished. I can't say I'm not surprised.

Titch is up next and he is being his optimistic, joyful self. Caesar and him have a hell of a time, joking and laughing and letting the audience join in. Despite his low score and dodgy district, I'm sure he will have at _least_ one sponsor. Me on the other hand. . .

After about an hour Caesar is saying goodbye to the boy from District Twelve who is trying to act arrogant under his skinny stature. All the Tributes parade across the stage once more before we are dismissed to go back to our quarters.

I go to bed the second I reach Level 8. I don't bother watching the Interview recaps having already had to tolerate them once.

When I plonk myself on the bed I try to shut out everything. I ignore my thoughts about tomorrow because I know they will just haunt me in the dark. Don't think about tomorrow. Don't think about Eris, or Charm, Or Cobalt. Don't think about blood. Don't think about darkness. Don't think about tomorrow. Don't think about dying. Don't think about the Hunger Games.

Somehow I drift off to sleep. Knowing in the back on my mind that this is my last night alive. . .

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><p><em>Thank-you to all my subscribers and reviews! I really apprciate ever single email I get telling me someone has reviewed or favourited. So, review, subscirbe &amp; favourite! And get excited for the next chapter<em>


	8. The End

_Hey! This chapter right here is the one I have been looking forward to writing most the minute I created this story. I really hope you enjoy it and I hope I wrote it well enough._

_To those who are asking, I am setting myself a deadline of updating a chapter every second weekend. I normally update on the friday night or the saturday but it really depends on what is happening on in my life. I am on holidays for a few weeks next week so I should be able to get a few more chapter in then._

_Reviews would be more than appreciated!_

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><p><em><strong>C<strong>__**hapter Eight- **_

I am awoken in the late hours of the night by a small knock on the door. Well, I don't think you could call it being 'awoken' because I wasn't technically asleep in the first place. . . I just had my eyes closed and tried to block the world out.

I hear feet patter towards my bed. It isn't the light fairy steps of Dia. Nor the usual stomping of Rella. So I become scared of who those feet belong to. Probably some mean Capitol man who is about to grab me and stuff me into the arena.

But when I finally look up I see it isn't that. It's the Avox boy. The dark haired one that always has his eyes covered by his thick black hair. He holds a tray topped with the sprinkled cookies I love so much and a jug of water. He also pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket that it addressed to me. I instantly recognise Dia curly handwriting-

_ Keep your chin up Dear. Believe in yourself and be yourself until the very end. I Believe in you. Dia, xx._

My tears fall onto the sparkly writing and make it smudge on the paper. A tissue appears in front of my nose and I wipe my tears onto it, nodding thank-you to the Avox boy. He pours me a glass of water then sits down beside my bed and makes me drink it. Then offers me a biscuit that he insists I take and I nibble on it as I cry. The Avox boy doesn't offer much comfort except the fact I can feel him sitting next to me and it makes me feel less alone and hopeless. . .

After a while he stands up and goes to leave the room but he is trips over his own feet and flops to the ground, the tray flying from his hands and the jug of water and biscuits clattering to the floor. I rush to help him, picking up the jug then grabbing his hand and lifting him off the ground. As I pull him up his long hair pushes aside from his eyes. . .

And I get to see something totally unexpected. Of all the people in the Capitol, the Avox's where the most plain. No colouring, no alterations, accept this one. His eyes- they are gold. Like the sun. A gleaming, shimmering gold that has been hidden behind his black hair. I wonder if he hides them on purpose. If Avoxes are stripped of any alterations when they are sentenced and this boy hid the colour in his eyes so it wouldn't be taken away from him.

I stare into his eyes for ages. Just looking into the golden orbs that are so beautiful and mesmerising. I feel like I could look at them for a lifetime, but he tears his eyes away and goes to clean up the mess he made before swiftly leaving the room.

I drift back to sleep thinking of the sun.

* * *

><p>Hopelessness. That's the feeling that rushes through me the second I hear another sharp knock on my door that signals that I am getting nearer to death's cruel arms. I just want to stay in this bed forever and never leave. Ever. Stay here with my blanket hauled up over my head; shutting the world around me out. But someone rips the blanket off my head.<p>

"Get up," says a rough and direct voice. It's Rella. She has finally made an appearance. She has bags under her eyes that shows she, like me, didn't sleep as well as she could have. She seems worn down; her reddish ringlets are flat and lifeless and her scar that cuts through half her face ages her by years. She looks ill.

I scramble out of bed. Rella is directing me out the door before I have had time to do anything like get dressed or wash my face. The lack of sun shows that it is early morning, just before dawn by the looks of things. We head to the elevator and are taken up to the very top level. The smoggy thick air of the Capitol whooshes into me the second the elevator opens. Rella takes me over a aircraft that is hovering over a platform, my legs feel stiff and sore as if my mind is subconsciously trying to prevent boarding; it knows what is the end of that hovercraft ride and it wants to stop it.

A ladder materialises and Rella signals I hold onto it. I am flushed with fear because I know I won't be able to hold onto it whilst it pulls me up onto the hovercraft. I am going to die before I even get into the Games after I fall off this roof into the city below. But my hands are frozen onto the ladder the second I get grip on it and no matter how hard I try I cant let go . . . _Smart_.

A few seconds later I feel a sharp stabbing pain in my arm. I try to move my head to see what the cause is but it's locked forward. "It's your tracker," a man says, "It will locate your position during your time in the arena."

It's a bit pointless though, seeing as my time in the arena is going to be so short.

From my peripheral vision I see another ladder drop down, undoubtedly for Rella. We are then both lifted into the hovercraft which takes off instantly. The image of the Capitol skyline quickly sinking into the distance. The colourful city begin to blend in with the skies and I can no longer identify it from the rest of the landscape. I know I am going to miss it- the only bit of colour in my life.

When I turn around Rella has disappeared into one of the many rooms of this giant hovercraft. It's so big- probably as big as my floor back in the Training centre. How can it even stay up in the air? It is probably big enough to fit another six or so Tributes on it without us noticing. . . maybe they even have.

I find my way into a room filled to the ceiling with food. The table is the length of a hallway and every inch is blanketed with food. Every bit of food you could ever imagine. I begin to eat, knowing it's going to be my last meal. All the colourful, sweet and juicy foods; they're the ones I like the best.

After a few hours the room is suddenly filled with darkness as the windows are blacked out. Fear overcomes me and a Capitol Attendant has to come in and assure me it is protocol- so tributes wont get any ideas from the landscape about what the arena will be. Another few hours pass before the hovercraft begins to slow and Rella reappears to take me to my launch room, looking even more worn down. She doesn't say anything at all to me until we are assigned to our room and our arena outfits are given to us.

"Here you go," she says pushing the garment into my chest.

I take it and quickly pull it on. The first thing I notice is how grey it is- completely. A dull colourless jumpsuit with a fur inner lining. There is a thick silky jacket and pants that offer extra protection and I am already beginning to sweat from how hot it is making me.

"Well. . ." I say, "Any ideas?"

Rella seems shocked that I have spoken. "What do you mean?"

"Aren't the outfits supposed to give you an idea about the arena? That's what one of the Prep team members told me the other night."

"How am I supposed to know?" She snaps, "I'm not a stylist. Does it look like I know anything about clothes? Pike is the one that knows this stuff. He is the one that should be here launching you off but because of some _stupid_ Capitol pre-games show the stylists were needed. So here I am."

"Why didn't Dia come?"

"Because she wanted to be in the Command Centre to watch over you when the gong rang. She thinks I'm too _irresponsible_ and _unstable _to have your life in my hands, so she is taking over my job. Not that I mind."

"And Titch?"

"One of his prep members was more than keen to launch him off," she replies walking over to another long table piled with food. "Might want to eat something. It is your last meal after all."

I stuff myself with more food, so much so I feel like a am going to burst. A little robotic voice sounds through the room telling me there is ten minutes until launch time. It makes my muscles tense and turn to stone, but Rella doesn't even react.

"Why don't you like me?" I ask her, itching for an answer.

She raises her eyebrow, surprised. "Because. You are going to die. Just like everyone else that I have mentored. If I begin to like you I will just give myself another thing to lose."

"So you don't get to know your tributes because you don't want to get attached then see them die?"

"Pretty much," she says casually, picking a strawberry off of a little cake and popping it into her mouth. "Why get to close to someone that is doomed?"

Indeed.

There is silence for a while, only interrupted by the robotic voice over telling me there is five minutes until launch time. After the announcement Rella sighs to herself then turns to me.

"Okay, so here is the things you need to know," She says, evidently feeling the need to at least tell me something. "You will be required to stay on your platform for 60 seconds. If you so much as _breathe _on the ground before the gong sounds you'll be blown to bits. Don't run towards the Cornucopia. Just turn around on your platform and run in the opposite direction. Get away from the fighting and find somewhere to hide. It's your only hope. You won't last long, but at least you may have a few more nights alive."

I nod to her and add the advice to the stack of directions Elden has given me.

"Thanks," I say.

"Don't thank me," she replies, snappishly. "I have been no help and you know it."

"Two minutes until launch time," says the robot.

"Time to get in the tube," she says directing me over to the glass shoot. It opens automatically as I approach and I tentatively step inside, already feeling incredibly claustrophobic. "Oh, I almost forgot." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out my beaded rainbow necklace, "Dia made me swear you would get it."

I take it from her and clasp it around my neck, knowing that I am going to take a little bit of colour into that arena with me.

"Good luck." Rella sings flatly, "And may the odds be ever in your favo-"

The tube door closes and Rella's last syllable is cut off. I'm trapped in silence with only the sound of my quick breaths heard. My heart begins to race and my chest tightens.

This is it. This is the end.

There's a buzzing sound and the platform begins to hum beneath my feet. A clicking noise starts sounding before I begin to rise. My eyes frantically lock on Rella who is looking at her feet, avoiding my gaze. Even though she didn't take the time to get close to me she is still bothered by the fact I am about to die.

Then blackness is covering me as the platform raises higher. I am completely engulfed by the darkness that used to surround me back home under the factory in Eight. I have travelled miles yet the darkness has followed me here. A few seconds pass with complete lack of vision. Then a blinding light streams into my eyes; I'm close to the top.

I have to close my eyes because the light is so bright. I hear the platform click in place before I open them back up again. And I am here. In the Arena. And what it looks like make me want to scream . . .

Grey. Everywhere. The sky. The ground. The walls of ice that surround us. All grey and dull with thick snow and ice. Not white -no- the sun isn't shining enough to make the ice look the pretty glimmering white. Just grey. Even the Cornucopia that I supposed to be a gleaming gold is coated in the icy grey sleet.

And it's freezing. Which just adds to the gloomy and depressing effect. The fur lining of my jumpsuit offers little protection because I am already shivering.

We are in a huge bowl. A huge circular wall of ice traps us in a small circle. All the tributes are stuffed close together, almost touching. I'm stationed at the very edge of the line of tributes with only the boy from District Nine shivering next to me. If I really wanted to I could simply stretch out my arm and touch him.

I think of the things Elden and Rella told me. Turn around on my plate and run the other way. I careful pivot my feet, spinning away from the cornucopia. But that's where Elden's and Rella's plans fail. I can't run away, because the ice wall is blocking my exit. I even reach out my hand and touch the smooth hard solid ice wall, there is no way I am getting through that. I have no choice but to run forward; where the battle is fought.

I spin back around in terror. At first glance it looks like there is no way to get out of the bowl, but after craning my neck I see there is a small slit on the other side of cornucopia. Only one exit, which ensures a battle to even get out of this area that traps us. We have to run into the fight. Which means I am going to die.

And then I am so overcome by sadness, terror, coldness and grey that I collapse onto my platform. My fingers reach up to my neck where my colourful beads are strung and I grip them tightly. Trying to hold onto the only bit of colour that I will ever see again.

Twenty, maybe thirty seconds have past and I am gripping my necklace so hard and shivering so violently that I snap the string that holds the beads together. It begins to crumple to pieces in my hands. I struggle to stop them all from falling and tumbling off my platform. In the struggle I come to my feet, juggling the beads in my frozen fingers. Despite my efforts one of the beads slips and bounces onto the platform, balancing on the edge, threatening to fall to the icy ground and send me flying sky-high.

And that's when words Elden said come flashing back to me. What he said about eliminating in numbers. Killing two birds with one stone. Trying to wipe out a section of my competition all at once. . .

I scoop the beads up so they are cupped in my hands remembering what Rella said not ten minutes ago. '_If you so much as breathe on the ground before the gong sounds you'll be blown to bits.' _If a breath can set these mines off. . . Well, maybe I am not doomed.

I take a second to have a breath. Knowing this could be the end if it doesn't work. But if it does work I am safe. . . Then I fling the beads into the air

I back up on my platform. Everything goes in slow motion. The beads fall slowly, as if they too, have been frozen by the cold. The boy next to me noticed what is about to happen a fraction of a second before it does. The beads clatter to the ground. Reaching about eight tributes down.

The explosions that follow cause my eardrums to burst. I am thrown sidewards, off my platform and slam into the ice behind where I hear something inside me crack. My skull smacks into the ice so hard my head spins. Pain shoots through my whole body but I don't notice it. My eyes are captivated on the chaos that is going on to my side. Fire bursting up from the ground, blowing shards of ice and snow into the air. Red begins to taint the grey snow as the explosions take lives. A chain reaction is caused. Explosions erupt down the line of tributes. It goes on for what feels like hours. Bangs that rattle my skull. Flesh, blood and bits of body being thrown into the air. Raining down on me.

On and on it goes. Explosion after explosion. Bead after bead. Those tiny little -seemingly harmless- things caused this. . . So unexpected. No one saw it coming, not even me. Who knew that a very colourful balls could destroy the games before they have even begun?

Then, all of a sudden, without warning, it stops. And it's dead silent- literally. I scramble to my feet, by body protesting and head swaying violently. I was thrown so far that I missed all the mines that were buried around my platform. A huge crater replaces the spot where the tributes once stood. Now no one's left. They are in pieces, scattered around.

I can only imagine the chaos that is happening back in the Capitol. People running around. Things being screamed. Buttons pressed. People called. Everyone trying to make sense of things. Trying to figure out what has happened and how to react.

Silence. Silence. And more silence. I am beginning to think I may have lost my hearing until I hear a low moaning sound from the other end of the creator. Someone's still alive. . . just.

I make my way to the other end, circling far around the creators in case some mines didn't go off. My ribs burn and legs sting which makes me think I have broken more than one thing. A huge blistering wound is pattered down my leg. But I still make my way to the moaning. And soon I find her.

Eris. The only surviving tribute. Laying in a pool of her own blood that is fading pink into the snow underneath. Half her leg is gone as well as having a decent chunk taken out of her side. She hasn't got long to live. Her eyes are the only thing moving. Flying frantically in their socket, searching. Then they lock on me, and begin to plead. Plead for help.

But I don't do anything. I don't even move. Oh, how the tables have turned. I was the one destined to die. Eris was the one destined to kill me. It was practically set in stone. Yet, here we are. Me- having blown up the arena with a few beads, and Eris missing half her limbs and. . . is she crying? It's hard to tell, but I think there are some tears mixing in with the blood that's pouring from her black eyes.

I consider getting a knife or sword from the snow covered horn and end the suffering she is going through. But I rule it out for two reasons. One, because I know I don't have the power to hold one of those blades and send it into someone's heart. And two, doesn't Eris deserve to suffer? Surely she would have made my death as painful as possible. It only makes sense she suffers like I would have.

So I just stand in the snow staring at her. Waiting for something to get me out of this arena. Waiting for the announcement that tells me I won. But it doesn't come. I begin to walk around aimlessly as I wait, carefully not to trip over the chunks of body that are scattered everywhere. I find some of the beads lying in the snow. The purple one, the blue one. I even uncover the golden yellow one that is sticky with someone's blood.

I jump out of my skin when the first canon blasts. It rattles my bones as it echoes through the frosty air. Twenty-three of them. One after the other. They go on for a lifetime. Years pass as they sound, and centuries before they finally fall silent.

Then there is a burst of static that signals an announcement. It's silent for a few seconds, suspense hangs in the air. Then a voice says, "Presenting the victor of the 66th Hunger Games. Paisley Waters from District Eight." There is no exclamation in his voice.

My eyes flick back to Eris who is no longer moving. She is dead, just like everyone else. And I was the one that killed her. . .

A ladder appears in front of me and my frozen fingers shake as they reach out for it. They are locked on by a current and I am pulled up into the hovercraft that sits above me. I am instantly warmed by the cosy air and I am suddenly concious of the total pain I feel in my head and middle. My ribs are completely numb and cold. Blood is streaming from the back of my skull. Flustered looking people appear in my vision, wielding flash-lights that they shine into my eyes. The world suddenly becomes very blurry and then goes black.

* * *

><p>I have this dream that I am in the sky. But it isn't blue. It's grey. And I am trapped, stuck levitating in the air surrounded by the depressing colour. Storm clouds of a darker shade begin to surround me. Freezing my blood and stopping my heart. Rain beats down on my skin and gets frozen there, trapping the ice to my skin. I'm encased in an icy grave.<p>

Then there is a shard of light that cuts through the ice and burns through it, heating my skin. The golden beams of sun melt away the ice until I am completely out of its hold.

Then a golden yellow, the colour of the Avox boy's eyes, breaks out from behind the blacking clouds. They fade away as the yellow gleams. And then, a rainbow appears across the sky, completely ridding the blanket of blue and turning it into an azure blue.

And I am warmed. By the golden beams that make my skin shimmer. Everything is perfect. Just for that moment. . .

But then, that moment ended. And I wake up.

* * *

><p><em>I realllllyyyy hoped you liked what happened! Please tell me what you think. <em>

_Oh, and don't be fooled by the chapter title, because this is most certainly not the end of my story. No no, there is still a **lot **more to be told. As you may guess Paisley is going to get in a little bit of trouble and things just go on from there. So thanks for reading and I hope you continue to. And if you feel like making my day review, subscribe and favourite! _


	9. Repercussions

_Hey guys! Short chapter this time, just couldn't get the words out so I thought ending it and starting the next chapter will get me out of this block._

_ Sorry for the late chapter. Internet issues and all. _

_ I'm glad everyone liked what happened in the last chapter because it was really the base of this whole story, now we just get to see the consequences. Buckle up, it's going to be quite a ride. :)_

_ Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 9-<strong>_** Repercussions**

The first thing I register when I wake is up is the fact that I am alive. That I am not in the arena. That I am breathing. That I exists. Then I begin to notice other things. . . The throbbing in the back of my head. The soreness in my ears. The stinging down my leg. The fire in my ribs. I am battered and bruised and -although I am in what seems to be the hovercraft hospital- no one is doing anything to fix me. It seems as if I am not currently first priority.

I hear footsteps running up and down the hall that is behind the door. Voices yelling at each other. Feet pattering as they comply to orders. Things being knocked over and bumped into. It's complete chaos. I guess no one has figured out what to do with me yet. . .

I stay frozen in my bed. Any movement sends shooting pain up my ribs and makes my head spin violently. Although my arms are stuck to my side; my brain is moving at a million miles an hour.

I am still in shock. Over what just happened. After what I just did. . . I blew up the arena. I finished the Games before the gong had even rung out. A few rainbow beads has destroyed the grey frozen wasteland that was destined to be my grave. I ruined the Capitol's pretty little Games, and they never saw it coming. They never thought that little Paisley Waters, the doomed 12-year-old from District Eight could ever make and impact on the Hunger Game except for having a particularly gruesome death.

I stay awake for hours. Thinking of all those tributes that are probably being reassembled in wooden boxes to be shipped back to their families. Unrecognisable now. All 23 of them. Some cruel and nasty, deserving of death like Eris and Cobalt. Others, like Titch or all those tributes from the poor Districts. Like me. Innocent, scared and harmless. All dead now. And because of me.

I never thought I would be capable of killing 23 kids. It never crossed my mind. Had I not already accepted my death? I never even considered that I was going to win. Not even when Dia and Elden assured me I could.

Elden. I wonder what he is doing right now. Surely he is proud that I listened to him. That I thought outside the box and channelled my thoughts differently to any one else. He is probably waiting to see me. Wanting to congratulate me on beating these Games.

And Dia. Well she would be bouncing off the roof. Thrilled I am alive. Overjoyed she can be the one to take me home and be my friend forever more.

I don't know what Rella is feeling. She probably never even made it to the Command Centre before I blew up the arena. She was probably still on the hovercraft, watching me on the many TV screens. I guess she would be happy I am alive, but heck, she probably didn't even watch it.

I am left alone, bleeding, hurting and crying until I feel the hovercraft land back in the Capitol. People dressed in white come in but refuse to answer my questions. They jab a needle in my arm and I fall under its spell instantly and drift out of conciousness. . .

When I wake up again the pain in my ribs is gone, My ears aren't ringing and my hair is clean and free of clumps of blood. The burn down my legs is now a pale white and smooth layer of skin. I am perfectly fixed and able to get out of my bed, but the door wont budge, no matter how hard I bash my fists into it.

I end up screaming on the floor. I want to get out of this place. I want to see Dia, have her hug me and tell me how proud she is. I want to get the sound of the explosions out of my head, but no matter how much I cover my ears or bang head with my palms, the booms still echo in my eardrums. I can't erase the vision of blood on snow from my eyes. Not even when I close them.

My heart is beating and my breath is quickening. I need air but this room is so stuffy that I can't get it into my lungs. My tongue begins to dry and I search the room for something to quench my thirst, but there is no water in sight.

At that moment the door clicks and swings open before slamming shut again. The boy, the golden eyed Avox stands there, with a clear glass of water in his hands. He keeps his eyes on the ground and covered by his hair. He approaches me slowly, careful not to startle me and holds out the water.

I gulp it down and then signal for some more that appears straight away. I chug down too then drink three more glasses before I am finally satisfied. Then sit myself on the cold white floor and try to catch a glimpse of the boys eyes.

"Hey," I choke out of my raspy throat. Eager for a human conversation.

He looks at me, and nods his head. I wonder why he doesn't reply before I remember what Dia told me the other day. Avox's can't talk.

But the fact he is mute doesn't bother me for some reason. I just want to have a conversation, I want someone to keep me sane so much that I keep on speaking. "My name's Paisley," I say. "Do you know when I'll be able to leave this place?"

The boy's head flicks from side to side looking for someone. Maybe he isn't allowed to communicate to me at all. . . then he shakes his head.

"I want to leave," I tell him, "I don't like being stuck in here. I want to see Dia, and Elden. Can you get them for me?"

He shakes his head again.

I feel a tear form in my eye. I need someone to be here and tell me I'm okay. Why isn't Dia visiting? Why isn't Rella congratulating me? Why am I being left to solitary confinement in this stupid hospital. "Can you stay here with me?" I ask the boy.

He takes a moment to consider. I doubt he is allowed to, but none the less he nods his head then helps me off the floor. His skin is warm and soft against my freezing cold arms. I absorb his warmth as he leads me back to my bed and makes me get in.

"Thank-you," I tell him as he fluffs up my pillow and tucks in my blanket. He nods his reply and stands next to me awkwardly for a few moments. "Why don't you grab a chair and sit next to me?"

He complies and gets a comfy looking arm chair from the corner of the room and sits. I shift in my bed so I am facing him and smile at him. I'm just so glad there is another person in here.

"Can I see your eyes?" I ask.

I see his eyebrows knit together under his hair. He is probably wondering how I know about the brilliant gold colour they are, or maybe he is curios as to why I am so interested in them. After he silently sighs he pushes his black hair out of his face and his golden orbs pierce through me.

"They are beautiful," I tell him. The very sight of them have warmed my insides. "So beautiful . . ."

He smiles, which is something I have never seen him do.

"What's your name? I mean, I know you can't talk, but maybe you can sign it or something?"

The boy scratched his head as he thinks. Then he holds up his hand and pokes the hair with his pointer finger.

"Poke?" I say, "Is your name poke?" He shakes his head and repeats the action. I keep guessing. "Jab? Prod? Tap? Spot?" He half nods at the last name. "Spot? Oh, it's like Spot? Um, Speck? Dot?" He nods. "Dot? Dot. That's a very lovely name."

Dot smiles. It is an odd name, but I guess everyone in the Capitol have odd names compared to the material and textile related names everyone in District Eight has. On my request Dot brushes his hair permanently behind his ear so I can look into his golden eyes when I talk to him. He just nods his head and smiles in response, but that's all I really need. I just want someone to be here as I vent my emotions. I tell him about how I thought up the bead idea, how it came to me. I tell him about Elden and Dia. I even talk about home, and about colours, and about my life under the factory. They are things I don't normally tell people, but he isn't exactly the one that will go spreading my stories around.

And I talk for hours on end. He even silently chuckles at a few things I say. I end up asking how old he is and he holds up ten fingers then adds another three to it. 13-years-old. So young to become a silent slave, I wonder how on earth he became an Avox in the first place.

I try to learn about him more. It is hard to find out things but we find a way to communicate by just giving options and him either nodding or shaking his head. I ask him if he can make any sound at all and he whistles in reply. He can even hum too. His humming is so soothing and calming that I find myself drifting off to sleep.

When I wake Dot isn't here. I my stomach drops and I grow cold again. I lay in bed for an hour or two, doing nothing, feeling sorry for myself. I begin to wonder if Dot is okay. Maybe he is in trouble; for staying with me, for comforting me. . . maybe they are hurting him, punishing him, maybe they are even killing him.

A clock on the wall strikes twelve and the door swings open. Dot is standing there, smiling at me as he holds a tray of food. He walks over and begins to scoop a warm thick soup into my mouth. After I have finished the entire bowl Dot holds out a little pink note that I know to be from Dia. I snatch it up and open it at lightning speed. Dia's cursive handwriting makes me feel safe.

_Paisley, I have been trying to come and see you, but everyone is under very strict instructions not to go near you. I am so proud of you Dear, I knew you could do it! I will be in as soon as I can. There is something very important we have to discuss. Keep your chin up._

_ Dia, xx._

I bring the note to my chest and breathe in the floral scent the paper gives off.

Dot stays in with me until I drift off back to sleep. The next morning I am alone again for a few hours but at the strike of twelve Dot comes in again. This time with a bigger bowl of soup and some bread.

Gradually, I am given more bread and more soup. Dot always brings it in then stays with me whilst I pour out my every thought to him, keeping nothing to myself. I begin to realise that I have made yet another friend here, in the place that I thought was evil and cruel. But now, with Ariel and Dia and Elden and Dot I begin to see this place isn't as evil as I originally thought.

When I open my eyes from a relatively dreamless sleep I see a figure standing next to me. I grin, thinking it's Dot. But when I see the figure is wearing black instead of the white Avox uniform and there is an extremely strong scent of roses in the air, I realise it isn't.

"Hello Paisley," President Snow says, hardly parting his lips from the tight line they are.

I try to reply but the rose scent is sticking in my throat and I cant get any words out

"Congratulations. You really did make quite a . . . boom." He states, choosing his words carefully. He plucks the white rose from his jacket pocket and twirls it between his fingers. The rose is beautiful, but small, there is no way it could give off the powerful stench. "It was a very clever idea. Not many people thought it was possible. I know the Gamemakers were certainly caught off guard. How ever did you think up such a scheme?"

I gulp. "I-I don't know. I thought I-I w-was going to die. It j-just. . . came to me when I was on that plate."

"Hmm," Snow says, his finger tracing a petal. "Very smart Dear, very smart. But I am afraid your little _stunt _ has caused a lot of commotion here in the Capitol. As you know the Games are meant to take place over several weeks, not seconds. The audience is disappointed it was over so soon. And the Districts, well they are getting ideas. . . ideas _you _have caused."

"Ideas?"

"You weren't supposed to win. You were meant to die in the Bloodbath. Everyone in Panem knew you wouldn't last. But when you did you proved everyone wrong. Even the Capitol. The underdog, the doomed 12-year-old won. You showed the Districts that there is hope, and hope can do bad things for this world."

"What do you mean?"

"Hope is the thing that will make even the weakest think they are strong. And when the weak have confidence, they rebel." He looks up from his white flower and glares right into my eyes, a cold dark glare.

My lip begins to tremble. "I didn't mean that." I splutter out. "I-I just didn't want to die. I didn't mean to cause this. I swear."

"I believe you," He says. "But none the less, the damage has been done."

"What do you want me to do about it?" I ask, thinking that's why he is here, to tell me to fix it.

"Nothing. There is nothing you can do. I just came to tell you that you might want to be careful where you step. . . there will be repercussions, I assure you. " And with that, he is gone.

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><p><em>And as always, review, favourite, subscribe, all that jazz! <em>


	10. The Weapon

_OH hello there. _

_I have been getting the most AMAZING reviews lately, and they are really helping me write this story! so thank-you everyone! I do try to reply to most reviews but lately most have been from people without accounts, so to all my anon reviews- I love you guys, thank-you so much for your support!_

_I am a bit iffy about this chapter, I'm thinking everything happens a bit too fast, but I couldnt find another way to rewrite it, i may come back and fix it later. But here you go! Enjoy!_

_Oh, did anyone buy the Hunger Games DVD? I know I did and I spent allll yesterday watching my 4 disk special edition! Loved it!_

_AND! I am changing my pen name, like, next week. Just so no-one gets confused when they get an alert from some random name :)_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 10- The Weapon<strong>_

I am let out of hospital a few hours after Snow's visit but I am more shaken up then I was when I went in there. I can't stand up without shaking like a leaf and I struggle to get one normal sounding word out my mouth.

Snow's words ring in my ears- _"I just came to tell you that you might want to be careful where you step. . . there will be repercussions, I assure you."_

I am given the grey furry jumpsuit that I wore in the arena to wear as I walk out the hall towards the elevator, flanked by Capitol attendants dressed in white. Even though I know Snow was being metaphorical when he told me to watch my step, I careful monitor every stride I take, landing my feet in the squares of the tiles rather than the cracks. Making sure there isn't anything suspicious about the floor that could send my flying sky high.

When the silver elevator opens my knees almost give way when I see Dia, Rella, my prep team and Pike. My worries disappear for a moment as I dive into Dia's outstretched arms and nuzzle my face into her warm ever-changing hair.

A glance over at Rella sees that she is smiling. Not the way Dia is, but she is smiling none the less. Lilliarnia is trying not to bounce in the air of happiness as she tries to remain professional, Xayla scowls at me, I guess she was hoping I would die. Pike is ranting on about how little time he has to make my interview outfit and how he needs measurements taken 'ASAP.' I have to glance around before I realise that Ariel -the only prep team member that I really liked- isn't here to greet me.

Despite the smile that glows from Dia's perfect white skin, I sense some tension behind it. She is nervous, scared, cautious. She must know that I'm in trouble; that Snow isn't happy. "C'mon Dear," she says taking my shoulder and leading me into the elevator. "We have a lot to talk about."

After stepping out onto level Eight I am surrounded by measuring tapes and sheets of material as Pike yells orders and the prep team rush to satisfy them. It takes a few minutes for Dia to raise her voice loud enough to get them to stop so she can pull me away to talk.

Dia leads me back to the elevator and -to my surprise- invites Rella to join us. We zoom up to the twelfth level where we step off then climb up stairs to get to the roof of the Training Centre. It's quite breathtaking up here. A beautiful blooming garden takes up half the roof, homing flowers of every scent and hue. The shining colourful city of the Capitol glistens below us, alive with cars and people.

"Alright," Rella says, breaking the tension, "Paisley, I can tell you know why we have to talk. The Capitol is pissed. And you are going to cop the consequences."

"The repercussions," I say plainly, repeating what Snow said.

"Yes, them." Rella says, "And it's my job, as your mentor, and Dia's as your escort, to try and find our way around any permanent damage this is going to cause."

"Why are you suddenly interested in helping me?" I ask. "You were fine with leaving me for dead before now."

"Well, you won, didn't you? I wasn't exactly expecting that. And now I have my first Victor, I want to keep her alive, which is going to prove to be difficult."

"They can't kill a victor, can they? Dia?" I turn to her, who has been keeping strangely quiet.

Her bejewelled lips are in a frown and her forehead creased as she thinks. "No, they don't, but killing someone isn't the only way to punish them. Paisley, bad things are going to happen if we don't set this out right. It's happened before; Victors getting in trouble for things they have done. Like Johanna Mason from 7, she has never been the same since what happened to her. . . we need to make your story doesn't end like hers."

"What happened to her?"

"They killed her whole family. And all her friends. Everyone she loved. I don't want the same to happen to you."

At that moment a sun rises inside my chest that lifts my spirits. "Well then!" I chirp, "We don't have a problem!"

"What do you mean?" Rella says.

"I don't have any family. And all my friends are here, in the Capitol. They are protected by that. Snow can't hurt them."

Dia's mouth twitches as she considers that. "Well I guess that _is_ an upside. But I am sure Snow will find out _some _way to punish you."

"I just have to watch where I step. . ." I mumble.

"Exactly!" Rella says. "We have to be very careful. Now your interview is tonight and you can't just sit there and shake like your other interview. You have to talk in this one. The audience is going to want a full account of everything that went through your head. You have make it sound like you weren't trying to show up the Gamemakers when you threw those beads. . ."

"How am I going to do that?" I ask, "I can't talk in front of crowd. That thing terrifies me, you know that."

"Yes, Dear, I know," Dia says smoothly, "But it's just an interview. The first half you will just watch the recap, it wont go for that long for obvious reasons. Caesar will ask a few questions, then you can go home. If you play it right you may be able to sooth Snow's anger."

"So how exactly am I supposed to play it?"

The next few hours I am being dressed and made up by the prep team whilst Dia and Rella try and figure out how I am going to do this interview. Pike didn't get the memo telling him he had to try and be subtle with my outfit when the dress I am to wear is white as snow and covered in tiny pictures depicting an explosion. According to him it reflects the _bang _I made in the arena. Dia goes into an absolute frenzy about it; which is something I have never seen her do. She yells her lungs out at Pike for suggesting I wear such a cruel looking dress and demands he makes a new one this instant.

The next dress I get is a purple and blue paisley pattern, to match the style I have had throughout the entire Games. My hair is curled and sparkled, then weaved with glittery strands of string. My eyes are painted and patterns drawn on my arms just like they were for my last interview.

Soon I am standing under a stage by myself, my limbs shaking uncontrollably and my eyes threatening to water. I don't know if I can do this. . . I don't think I will be able to stay standing.

I feel a hand close over my shaking fingers and I yelp in fright. I spin around to see Dot standing there with a smile and his hair tucked behind his ear so his golden orbs gleam. He nods reassurance at me and squeezes my hand for luck.

"Thank-you," I say as I steady my feet and stop shaking. His presence has calmed me down. "Thank-you for everything."

A smile is mirrored back at me.

The crowd above me begins to cheer as Caesar walks onto the stage. A few minutes later I am being introduced. The plate below me begins to hum and I look to Dot.

His mouth moves, silently wishing me luck as he steps off the platform and watches me rise to the stage. The lights are blinding and the crowd is cheering. I haven't taken a breath by the time Caesar is taking my hand and sitting me down. He quiets down the audience and turns to me.

"Paisley, you really have made life a little difficult. I wasn't expecting this interview to come for at _least _another three weeks, you made me move back my hair appointment!" Caesar says with a laugh that is echoed back at him.

"I wasn't expecting another interview at all," I reply meekly, which is met by a few 'awws'.

"Well, you and I will have plenty of time to talk later. For now, we have to watch the recaps. I have a feeling they won't be going as long as they normally do," he says with a sparkle.

The lights dim, music begins to hum and a large screen comes to life behind me.

Apparently every year -during these recaps- a story is told. About friendships being broken or how a victor was slowly driven mad or the bonds making then breaking in an alliance. Every year a different story is told by the way the images of the Games is presented and who becomes victor.

The story of my Games is vividly clear. . .

We see footage that wasn't even shown during the build-up of the Games. Footage of the Districts, of the homes of all the kids that were killed in 3 seconds flat. We see all the Reapings in full, the cameras zooming up on the families who are wailing and crying. The tributes tearing themselves away from siblings and friends.

We even see families saying goodbye in the Justice Building, which is _supposed _to be a private event. Stories being shared and promises being made. Every tribute promising their parents or siblings or lovers that they will come home. They _promise_.

This is interrupted by short pulses of the explosions caused by those beads.

Then it changes to tributes in their rooms in the training centre. Some doing weights instead of sleeping, running up and down the hall to try and build up stamina for the Games. Stuffing themselves with so much food they may explode. Trying to give themselves a fighting chance.

Then more flashes of the mines. The dirt and snow flying up from the ground. . . the blood.

They even show the training. Which is never supposed to be seen by the audience. Tributes sweating over their sword fights. Having their brows creased as they write the answers to the plant test. Throwing knives. Climbing trees. Fighting hard to keep their promise.

Then the explosions.

It goes on and on, until we are seeing the tributes go up into the tubes. Utter determination on their faces, whispering their promises into their tokens as the plates rise and their muscles go rigid.

I hide myself in my hands when the I see my face flash onto the screen. Me, on my knees, upset because of how _grey _ the arena is. I part my fingers to see my hands rubbing the beads as I come up with the idea that brought me here. Then I see myself stand up on my plate and I shut my fingers again. A ringing round echoes through the room and I know that I have just thrown the beads. . .

It's like I'm back in that arena. The booms crushing my ears, throwing me off my plate. I suddenly feel the burn down my leg again, and the pain in my back, the throbbing in my head. I feel my eyes being to tear up, but I quickly wipe them away and suck in my tears then remove my hands from my face.

Caesar is looking at me sadly. He can see how distressed I am and he frowns. The last image on the screen is me scraping through the remains, finding the little beads, coated in sticky blood that slide through my hands. All the other tributes laying in pieces around me. . . all those promises. Broken.

My story isn't one about surviving impossible odds. Or conquering the Games. Or outwitting the Gamemakers. This is a story of promises broken. Of all those lives lost in seconds. All their potential destroyed. . . because of me. It's a story of false-hope.

And how smart. How oh so smart was this idea. Me, being responsible of all those kids deaths. Not the Capitol, or the Games. This video puts the blame on me. All the promises those kids made didn't come true, those tributes gave their families hope that things would be brighter, that there was light at the end of the tunnel, but that was nothing but lies. All that hope was a lie. It's perfect. Turns the Districts against me, diminishes any hope that I caused and pleases the audience; who now realise the lives they destroyed.

"You obviously found that very emotional, Paisley," Caesar says, "What was going through your head before you threw those beads?"

I take a deep breath. _This is it. _"I don't know really. I was just so upset, the sight of the arena. The grey. It made me so sad. So sad I ripped off my necklace which was the only bit of colour I had left in my life. I wasn't thinking, I just threw them, I didn't mean for it to happen. . ."

That was the plan Rella and Dia set up. To make it seem like it was one big accident.

"We were all very shocked," Caesar says, "The Gamemakers are now developing a new rule that requires all tokens to undergo inspection before the arena. Did you ever think those beads would ever be capable of that?"

I shake my head. "I always thought colour was harmless. That it was the only thing in the world that can't hurt anybody. But, I guess . . ." I let my sentence drift off.

". . .that you underestimated it," Caesar finishes for me. "Much like Panem did you, it seems."

"I guess so."

And for another hour I get drilled, question after question. I answer quickly and simply, but it seems to be enough. The audience slowly loses interested when we move on from how I blew everyone up. I am made to talk about home and my reaping. What I did in training and how I prepared for my interviews. I don't tell them about Elden, and what he did to help me, I feel giving out that information will only hurt him.

Soon the President is being introduced and he comes to the stage with a gleaming gold crown that he places very carefully on my head, his eyes dark and cruel as he glares at me and offers his congratulations.

When Caesar begins to sum up the interview I audibly sigh in relief. I can't wait to get home and escape all this drama. I will be sad to leave the Capitol, but it's not safe for me here any more. Besides, I will have to come back in a few months for the Victory Tour.

"Just before we go, I have a very important announcement for all of Panem," Caesar says. "You better get the streamers up and put on your dancing shoes because the Victory Tour has moved forward! Due to the lack of Games, the Victory Tour will take up that time. Paisley will spend a week at home before coming right on back to the Capitol! Can't wait to see you all then! Thank-you, and goodnight Panem."

The lights turn off and people start filing out whilst I stay frozen on the stage. Dia is then sweeping on and whisking me back to the Training Centre to collect a few things. She doesn't say anything to me until we are getting out of a car at what appears to be a train station. I never got to see the station we arrived to the Capitol on because I passed out. A gleaming golden train sits at the platform with a silver '8' on the side.

"Rella will be here soon," Dia says evenly, "She had something to attend to."

We wait outside the train for a few minutes until Rella is stepping out of a car with her face looking grave. With Capitol attendants surrounding her, she walks up to Dia and drops her voice. "Sorry, I got caught up. Snow called me to meet with him."

Dia's eyes widen. "What did he want?"

"To give Paisley her victory gift," she says with venom as she steps to the side to reveal Dot -his eyes covered by his black hair- held in the arms of two stern looking Capitol attendants. "He requests he goes to live with her in the Victor Village as her personal man servant."

"Man servant?" I say.

"Snow's orders, Paisley. We will discuss it on the train." Rella turns to the attendants, "Well hurry up! Put him on! We don't have all night!"

Dot keeps his eyes on his feet as he is shoved onto the train. We are all lead to a different compartment, ushered through the door then, after a few seconds the train takes off at full speed and the Capitol sinks away, to just a colourful line in the horizon.

I give myself a few minutes to try and wrap my head around what just happened. Dot, he is coming home with me. To District Eight. To be my Man Servant. Why? Capitol citizens aren't allowed to live in the Districts, the same goes the other way around, why is he the exception?

I run to the lounge room where Dia and Rella are deep in conversation, apparently having a new found friendship over the mutual decision to keep me alive. They glance up when I walk in, my chest beating hard as I stress.

"Why is he coming with me?!" I shrill, "He isn't suppose to come to the Districts! I don't want him to be my servant!"

"Calm down, Paisley, Calm," Dia coos as she gets up to embrace me, "We are figuring this out now."

"We think Snow knows you don't have family or friends at home that he can use against you." Rella says. "Snow wants to give himself a weapon. He must have noticed the relationship you and the boy developed whilst you were in the hospital. He wants you to get close to the boy so he can use him against you."

"His name is Dot," I tell her.

"Whatever," she says, "It's a good thing for him. The Capitol is not kind to Avoxes. They think of them as second class citizens. His life will be better in Eight."

"What about his family? And his friends? He can't just leave them!"

"Paisley, dear," Dia says, "He is an Avox. A lot of them don't have families. And they certainly aren't permitted to have friends."

I nod my head then turn out of the room. I have to search through several carriages until I find the one that holds the Capitol attendants. I demand to know Dot's whereabouts and they point me to the very end carriage. There I find him slouched over in the corner, silent tears running down his cheeks. When he sees me walk in he stands up straight, quickly wipes away his tears and bows his head.

"Don't be silly," I tell him, "You don't have to bow. I'm sorry they are making you do this. I didn't want this to happen. But you don't have to worry about being my Man Servant. You can just live at my home, and be happy."

Dot sniffs and gives me a smile.

"I'm so sorry. But at least I'll have a friend at home now."

We spend the next few hours together. I take him to the kitchen and introduce him to the sprinkled biscuits that I love. He is reluctant to take them at first, not being allowed to eat the food whilst serving in the Capitol, but I tell him that he isn't here to serve me, he is here to be my friend. It's what Snow wants, for me to have a friend so he has something against me, and I am going to give him what he wants, because having Dot with me makes me happy.

A few hours pass and I begin to get sleepy. It's late at night and the sun will be rising in a few hours, so I decide to get in a few hours of shut-eye.

I bid Dot a good night. "You'll love it in Eight," I reassure him as I head to my room. But really, I'm reassuring myself more than he. I have never liked it in Eight, but maybe now -after having death hung over my head- I will begin to appreciate it more. . .

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><p><em>You see those buttons down the bottom of the page? Well I suggest you tick the boxes labelled 'subscribe' and 'favourite' and type a little something in the review box ;) It would be quite amazing if you did.<em>


	11. Victors

_****Hey hey hey! _

_I changed my penname! Did you notice? well i did! yay_

_Late chapter, but hey, have any of my chapters been on time? yeah, that's what i thought._

_Enjoy it and review it or die._

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Eleven- Victors<strong>_

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><p>My fingers stay suspended, hovering a few centimeters from the glimmering metallic doorknob of my new home. The huge, two-story brick structure is a castle compared to the cramped little hole I used to sleep in. With a luscious green grass lawn and flowers blooming down the pathway, it is the only place in Eight that has any colour at all.<p>

I remember I used to pass it on my way to school and stop to stare at the deep red bricks and blue tiled roofs. Twelve houses lined down the cobbled street. Six on one side, six on the other. One side dedicated to the girl victors; Rella, Cecelia and -now me I guess. The other side has the two male Victors, Ritt and Woof. They all came to greet me at the station in front of the cameras and the cheering crowd, offering their congratulations and welcoming me into the Victor 'family'. They followed me back to the Victors Village but dispersed so I could cross the threshold of my new house by myself.

"Hurry along, sweetie," Dia says from behind me- waiting for me to open the door. "It's getting a bit chilly out here."

I take a deep breath before placing my hand on the cold doorknob and give it a twist. The door swings away from me to reveal the long, fancy hallway. Lights automatically turn on, showing off the polished wooden floorboards and finely woven carpets that would have taken a District Eight worker days to complete. It truly is beautiful, like a room from the Capitol itself, but it is so foreign to the textiles district.

Dia's escort job doesn't end at the door. Apparently she has decided to stay here in my new house for the week; not seeing the point of taking the trip back to the Capitol when my Victory Tour has been moved up to next week. She shows me around the house which she says is similar to hers and allocates me one of the many bedrooms, all with their own bathrooms and walk in wardrobes.

"I'll leave you to wash up, I'll go make some lunch," Dia says walking out.

"Wait!" I say as her hair disappears behind the door, she totters back and looks at me expectantly. "Where's Dot? I thought he was supposed to stay in my house."

"He has been taken to the Justice Building. He has to get a citizenship to Eight to be able to live here legally. He should be here soon."

"But, if you are a citizen of Eight, you aren't allowed to leave. . ." I say slowly.

"Not necessarily" she replies, "He is under your control now. He has a dual citizenship meaning he can live in both places, but only where you say he can be."

"So I can send him home if I want?" I ask.

"Technically. . . yes. But you don't want to do that, do you?"

"He doesn't belong here," I whisper, "He belongs with his family in the Capitol."

"I told you this before, Paisley. His life here will be a million times better than it was there. It is a blessing he gets to live here. Trust me." She leaves before I can say anymore.

I am left in my room alone; free to look around the house without Dia. I begin to open doors and cupboards, finding odd bit and bobs. The wardrobe is full of clothes that are just the right size for me and the bathroom shelves are already stacked with toothpaste and soaps. This house has more things than I have owned in my entire life.

Soon Dia is calling me downstairs. There is this gap between Dia and I now that wasn't there before. She used to be so bright and bubbly, but ever since I came out of that arena she has always had her eyebrows down as she thinks, and her voice is shaky. She is worried. She puts on her peppy voice and bouncy step, but there is something missing.

"I made pasta," she says when I walk into my new kitchen, "Extra cheesy."

"Thanks," I murmur taking the bowl from her fingers that are covered in jewels.

I scoop down the pasta in silence, Dia begins to wash the pots and scrub the bench when there is a knock at the door. My head snaps up.

"It's probably the other Victors. They said they would come to see how you were settling in," Dia says.

But it isn't. Instead of the jolly Victor family two armed Peacekeepers stand like towers on my doormat.

"Good afternoon, Miss Waters," one says, "We are here to deliver your Man Servant. Enjoy." She gives an evil smile then shoves Dot through the door, looking tired and empty.

The door shuts silently and I turn to Dot who avoids my gaze.

"You must be tired," Is all I say, not being able to make anything else come from my lips. I feel so bad; to have taken him away from his home and have him forced to live somewhere else. "C'mon, I'll show you to your room."

As I walk up the stairs I begin to think more in depth about why Snow has sent Dot to Eight. To give the Capitol a weapon to use against me is what Rella said, but I think there must be more than that. Dot reminds me so much of myself, in stature and personality, so quiet and small, slinking into the background and staying unnoticed . . . he is just like me really. And maybe that's what Snow is trying to tell me, that Dot is like me, and he can be pushed around. He has taken Dot away from his home like I was when I was reaped. There has got to be more to this then I think there is. . .

"Here you are," I say opening a random door close to my bedroom and finding an equally big bedroom behind it. "Make yourself at home."

I leave Dot in there by himself, thinking he needs his alone time and head back down the stairs to find Dia sitting on the bench with her fingers on her face. Eyes closed and brow creased.

"Dia?" I say carefully.

She snaps her head up as I enter and pulls her face into a smile that doesn't fit this situation.

"Are you okay?" I say.

"Yes, yes," she says quickly flatting out the base of her skirt. "Yes, I'm fine. I just have a lot of things to sort out! We have your homecoming party tomorrow night, the Victor Tea tonight. I have so much to organize, I best get to it!"

She goes to bounce out of the room but I call her back in.

"Dia, you can stop pretending. I know I'm in trouble," I sniff, "I get it."

She looks at me sadly, "I am going to do everything I can to make sure you are safe."

"They can't hurt me," I tell her. "I'm a Victor."

"I know sweetie, I know. But the Capitol is a lot more complex then you may think."

"How?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Stop trying to protect me from the truth Dia," I say, "I know, I'm only twelve, but I need to know these things."

"I know as much as you do, Paisley. But this isn't the end; the Capitol isn't going to let you live a happy little Victor. I don't know how, but they _will _get their revenge."

"Well, can't they just shoot me? Hire an assassin and blame it on one of the other Districts wanting revenge. They could easily get rid of me. . ."

"It would be too obvious," She says, "All of Panam watched you in the arena and everyone knows that the Capitol isn't happy about it."

"But what about the video? That video during the interviews put all the blame on me. It would have had some effect on the Districts."

"Most likely it did. But some pictures and music strategically put together isn't going to fix everything."

"So what do we do then?" I ask, slightly shaky.

"We act like everything is normal. We keep our eyes open and are careful. And we wait."

Waiting is one of the hardest things to do. Time always flies when you are doing something, but when you are watching the clock the seconds feel like years and it's like minute hand never moves.

I go upstairs to my room and lay on my new bed for hours. Just staring at the ceiling wondering if the Capitol has rigged it to fall on top of me and crush me. When I have a shower I am careful to make sure the liquid coming out of the tap is water and not some Capitol made poison. Every step I take I am guessing the death-traps and bombs that might be under my feet.

I haven't seen Dot since I left him to his room. I ponder going to see how he is but decide against it, knowing he needs his alone time.

I can't help but feel I am being watched in this house. No doubt there are cameras hidden in these walls and microphones listening to my every syllable. Every move of my muscle being instantly sent to the Capitol as they figure out how to crack me.

Suddenly my giant house feels so small. The walls crush my limbs together and I need to get out. I run down the hall and swing open the door and fly down the pathway of the Victor's village.

The streets are packed. My homecoming created a public holiday throughout Eight and everyone is making the most of it. Kids playing on the street with homemade toys and sticks. Everyone quiets down when I walk past and they recognize who I am. Some are ecstatic to see me, others are weary and frightened.

Never have I walked down the road and have people turn around to get a glimpse of me. I used to be nobody to these people; no one ever knew I existed. But now I am the most well-known person in Eight.

I don't know where I am walking, but I find myself down a street I have never been before. A little road on the outskirts of my District, littered with small houses with mothers busy hanging out the washing on the porch. Every house looks pretty much the same but my eyes are drawn to the one third from the end. It has many people gathered around the front, all dressed in dark clothes and staying still. I quicken my feet to investigate.

My heart nearly stops when I realise what I have walked in on. A whole family of blondish shaggy haired people, some old, some young. But it's the colour of their eyes that turns me to ice, a bright gleaming emerald, glazed over with tears. Even from a distance they stand out. One woman is crying into a man's arms who stares gravely at a large wooden crate held on top of Peacekeepers shoulders. A rough seal of the Capitol is stamped onto the side and a large '8'.

It's Titch. . .

In thousands of tiny pieces, roughly arranged to form a disjointed and gruesome body that belonged to my former District Partner.

He was so supporting, so sweet, and so innocent. He didn't scowl at my crying or put me down. He was kind to me which was something I had never experienced. I remember him telling me he wouldn't kill, believing his life shouldn't be valued above another, I didn't believe him. I was convinced it was an act.

The next thing I know a young blonde girl with the eyes straight from Titch's sockets bangs into me and completely knocks me off my feet.

"Oh, I am so sorry," she says with a hint of tears as she helps me off the ground.

"It's okay," I say quietly. When my gaze meet hers her hand drops and eyes widen. She stares at me for hours, saying nothing, just looking deep into my eyes. Her emeralds are full of shock, as she looks into the face of her brother's killer.

She opens her mouth to say something but I am turning on my heel and running as fast as I can back down the road before the words leave her lips.

Yet again, I don't know where I am heading, but I run and run and run. Away from Titch in that wooden box that I condemned him to and away from the people's life I have destroyed. The family that I broke up.

Somehow I make it back to my house in the Victor Village. My hands are shaking so much and are dripping with sweat and I can't turn the metal door handle. Instead I slide down the door and sit with my knees on my chest and hands on my face; crying.

After half an hour or so I hear the sound of rocks crunching under feet and I snap my head up. A lump rises in my throat when I see a clad of black trudging down the Victor Village lane. A wooden crate held high in the air on the shoulder of four white dressed men.

Why? Why, of all places, did the mourning parade have to venture down my street?

The little girl from before is off to the side of the parade. She looks at her feet as she walks on the lawn of the Victor's houses, not bothering about stepping on the flowers and grasses. Destroying the lawn is the last thing on her mind.

I stand up and go to turn the door knob but I am shaking harder than before. My eyes dart around to see the family walking right past my house but no one notices me. Not until the girls eyes wonder up the pathway and lock on me.

I avoid her gaze as I desperately try to turn the door knob. She stops at the pathway and just stares at me. I become more frantic, tears streaming down my cheeks until I finally get a grip and fling the door open before collapsing inside and slamming it behind me.

"Paisley?" Dia's voice calls from somewhere down the hall.

I don't have enough breath to call back which brings her running down the hall. When she asks what's wrong I can't give her an answer, instead I just point outside. She glances out the window and realises instantly.

"Wh-why is _he_ going down _my_ road? Why?" I beg.

"Dear, the Tribute Graveyard is at the end of the lane. It's where all the tributes are buried."

Perfect. Just _perfect._ Not only to Victors have to live with the fact 23 children have died because of them, but to put the cherry on the cake they have to live next-door to an entire graveyard of those dead Tributes. A perfect way to remind the Victors of what they have done. . . Well played Capitol, well played.

"Do you want to go out? Get away from here for the day?" Dia suggest.

"No, I just want to stay."

"Okay." She says, "I have been talking to Dot and-"

"_-Talking?"_

"Well, not talking- obviously. But communicating. He wants you to know that he is happy to be here, and he wants you to stop feeling bad about it."

"Why couldn't he tell me himself?"

"Because you've been avoiding him," she explains, "You haven't spoken to him since you got off the train."

"Only because I wanted to give him space," I say defensively, tears still stinging my eyes.

"I know, I know." She says trying to smooth things over. "I just think you should talk to him, its hurting him that you're upset that he is here."

"I will."

But I don't.

When the sun is gone Dia is dressing me in a flowy dress and pinning up my hair.

"The Party is at Cecelia's house. She has been cooking since you left the arena. All the Victors are very excited to see you without all the ceremony and cameras."

Apparently it's Eight tradition that on the homecoming of a Victor all the other Victors have a dinner; to welcome the new member of the family.

At first I was nervous to going to meet all these killers, but then I realised I was now one of them. It wasn't exactly a title I wanted.

At 6 'o'clock Dia is opening the door for me. I wait for her to follow me out but she stands waiting.

"What are you waiting for?" I ask.

"Dot," she replies, "C'mon Sweetie! It's time to go!" she calls up the stairs

Dot appears, dressed in a simple blue buttoned shirt and jeans. I have never seen him out of his Avox uniform, so him dressed in casual clothes is something of a shock. His black hair still hangs in front of his eyes but he has swept it to the side so they peep out slightly.

"We are going to need to cut your hair," Dia says as we walk down the path, "I don't know how you don't crash into things!"

Twp houses down lies Cecelia's house; a young adult that won the 56th Hunger Games at the age of 17. She lives with her husband- Ritt who won 3 years after her. The pair fell in love during their mentoring sessions and Cecelia did everything in her power to bring him home.

"The district Eight love story is still all the rage in the Capitol," Dia comments as we walk up the driveway.

A sharp knock on the door is followed by the pitter patter of footsteps before the door swings open to reveal a small child with blonde ringlets and soft pink lips. She calls out for her mum when she sees us and the tall slim Cecelia comes to the door.

"Go get your brother, Lacy," Cecelia says whilst the young girl runs down the hall. "Welcome Dia and Paisley, who is your friend?"

"This is Dot," Dia explains, "He is an Avox from the Capitol, sent here for Paisley's benefit." She then drops her voice and leans closer to Cecelia, "I'll explain later."

Cecelia nods then opens the door wide and swings her arm, directing us in. The house is identical to mine, except the decorations and carpets are different styles and colours. There is noise down the hall meaning we are the last to arrive to my own party.

In the dining room sit many people. When I enter they all come in and introduce themselves without all the cameras and microphones; it is much more relaxed and natural.

When I sit dinner is immediately served. Potato, roast chicken, vegetables coated in sauce with a bubbly drink to wash it down. The Victors go around the table and tell their story to me, not skipping the details. . .

Woof was Eight's first Victor in the 12th Hunger Games. Now, despite being frail and aged, he is the life of the party. I begin think he may have a screw loose as he laughs a little too loudly and talks a little too shakily. He breezes over his Games quickly, not wanting relive the blood and gore but tells us in detail of the big finale that went for 2 days. The showdown between him and a huge boy from District Four. It is the thing that put him on the Hunger Games map.

Many years passed before we got our next Victor- Rella.

Rella doesn't talk about her Games, she just says 'never again' before throwing her glass of wine into the back of her throat. She is already a little tipsy and swaying on her chair.

Many more years until Eight was showered with gifts after Cecelia won.

"Eight was _long _overdue for a Victor," she says, "so I stepped up to the plate."

She talks about her life before the Games. She was a troubled girl, always picking fights and getting in trouble with the law. "I was lucky the Peacekeepers went easy on me, I should have been sentenced to death for violence every second day." The Games were a sort of theory for her, it turned her life around and made her realise the pain she was inflicted to others when it was returned to her. She used her violence in the Games and was brutal, but it made her win. When she got home she was a completely different person.

Three years later Ritt came along. A big and solid boy with a determination that could not be overlooked. Cecelia and him hit it off straight away and she did everything she could to get the sponsors he needed- even things she wasn't proud of. He came home Victorious they were quickly married. Now they have two kids- young Lacy of six years and toddler boy Baize.

Ritt still is solid, but the muscle he displayed in the picture he brought out of him has faded away. With sandy brown hair that is in little dreadlocks and metallic eyes he is quite handsome.

"And now we have you," Ritt says as he tucks his photo of him being crowned in his pocket. "Welcome to the family!"

I form a half smile. Amazed they were able to relive the past so easily and freely, as if it didn't haunt them.

"You didn't have to do that," I say.

"What?" Woof says.

"Tell me about your Games," I explain "I don't want you having to think about them again."

"Paisley, we think about them every day." Rella shoots, "Every_-fricken_-day."

"She's right. You never forget, Paisley," Cecelia adds.

"Talking about them helps. You don't want to keep it bottled up, or you'll go crazy." Ritt comments.

"So . . . it never leaves?" I aim my question to Woof, who has lived with it the longest.

"Never."

* * *

><p><em>R-e-v-i-e-w<em>-


	12. Victory Tour

_So I guess I have set a record for the longest time without an update. This chapter has been ready for AGES, but I never got around to posting it._

_You may have noticed my pen name changed. What up?_

_One of the reasons it's been so long is because I spent a month in Vietnam and Cambodia with World Challenge. All I want to say is that if you ever get the chance to go on World Challenge- Do it! It's the best thing i have ever done with my life!_

_So after the world's longest wait, here's chapter 12-_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter 12- Victory Tour<em>**

_Titch Runnings _

_66th Annual Hunger Games_

_Age 14_

_Day 1, Paisley Waters, District Eight_

_The odds were not in his favour_

The grey headstone says it all.

All the headstones are like this. The names; the day they died; their ages and who killed them. The ones at the front are from recent Games, but at the very edge of the graveyard you can see the names of the Eight's that died in the very first Hunger Games. Letters faded with moss growing over them. Forgotten and lost. But still there- haunting the victors.

There are so many on them, all lined up. Two tributes for every year except the ones were we had a Victor. Side by side.

All of them read the same at the bottom- _'The odds were not in_ _his favour' _or alternatively- _'The odds were not in her favour.' _The families must have had no choice; no one would voluntarily put that at the bottom off their child's tombstone.

Sitting next to Titch's grave is one identical to it, except it is not filled in. The freshly upturned dirt and the grey stone that is ready to be carved and covered. They had already dug my grave, ready for me to be placed in it.

And that's what disgusts me, that they were so prepared and so sure. The Capitol think they have everything mapped out- that they can predict the future- but they can't. Knowing I had ruined their plans makes me slightly happy now, seeing that they had dug a grave for no reason.

I lean over to place a small bunch of light purple and yellow flowers under Titch's name. I found them growing out in my rather large backyard and I felt I needed to someone show my respects to Titch in some way. No matter how small. . .

* * *

><p>On my way back to my house in the Victor Village I pass Cecelia's house. It's been a week since the Victor Dinner but it's still flowing through my brain, all the stories of the Games, all the kids that my neighbours killed, it was a lot to take in. Cecelia is on her lawn, prodding the flowerbed with a shovel while her daughter and son playing with some dirt behind her<p>

"Good morning, Paisley!" Cecelia calls as I walk past.

"Hello Cecelia," I reply.

"Call me Cece," she says as she walks over to me, wiping her face and covering it in dirt.

I force a smile, "Cece."

"Did you enjoy yourself the other night?"

"Yes, it was lovely."

I haven't spoken to Cecelia or any of the other Victors since the dinner . The past week has been so strange. Adjusting to the new house and having everyone know who I am. At least three times I have found myself walking to my old factory instead of the Victor Village.

"Good, good! Everyone loves you. I know Baize and Lacy have taken a particular shine to you," her eyes twinkle over to her children who smile shyly at me. "Shouldn't you be at home? Aren't you leaving soon?"

"Yeah, train leaves at 11. I better be getting back now, actually."

"Be sure to say hello to Dia for me."

I give her my word as I continue down the street. I get a wave through the window from Woof, and Ritt passes by with some morning groceries and nods hello. When I get home Dia is fussing over Dot's shirt collar in the kitchen and nearly has a heart attack when I walk in.

"Paisley! Where on earth have you been?! I've been looking for you _everywhere!" _She runs over and embraces me quickly. "We leave in a few hours!"

"I know. I just went for a walk."

"I was worried sick!"

"Sorry," I mumble.

"Don't fret, at least you're back. Now, the train leaves at 11 but we will want to get on their early so I can brief you about what is going to happen. All the Districts are in a frenzy trying to prepare for your arrival."

The Victory Tour has quickly arrived and my prep team are here to prepare me for the cameras. I can hear them bustling around in the room across the hall and my scary dragon stylist- Pike- shouting orders and fuzzing about how the moisture in the District Eight air is effecting his skin.

"Better go get ready, the cameras are coming soon," Dia says as she shuffles me down the hall.

Xayla and Lilliarnia are there to greet me with a third unknown man with sleek pastel blue hair and eyes tattooed onto his eyelids. My favourite prep team member- Ariel- is nowhere in sight. But dragon man Pike is still puffing smoke from his nostrils and fussing over some material in the corner.

"It's a good thing they moved up the Victory Tour. We won't have to do much to make you look pretty," Lil says consulting her clipboard and ticking off a few things. "Just a simple make-up job and some hairstyling."

The team gets to work straight away and the new male member introduces himself as August. Apparently Ariel resigned from her job the second I went into the launch room. No one really knows why but everyone thinks she is an absolute fool for doing so- Being a prep team member is one of the most sought after job in the business and Ariel threw it away with two hands.

"Apparently she has gone into some Human Rights lawyer course," Lil comments as she curls my hair. "Her parents were the ones who landed her the prep job, but she didn't appreciate it. The fool. Now she has given up the chance of a lifetime for some silly desk job."

I remember the conversation I had with Ariel when we first met. How I questioned the use of prep teams and Tribute parades and how she seemed to second guess her role in the Hunger Games. I can't help but think her resignation may have been caused by my words. . .

"I think that'll just about do it," Lil says after about an hour, "Pike, she is ready to be dressed."

Pike rushes over and throws a silky dress over my head. It flows when I spin and is a light musky blue, much like the sky of the Capitol.

Dia is soon rushing in with Dot running behind her.

"We are running late, we better go. You look beautiful Paisley," Dia says as she grabs my hand and rushes me out the door.

We are at the station within a few minutes and being pushed onto the train my officials dressed in white. Cameras are flashing and microphones are being shoved into my face, people demanding answers from me but Dia is pushing me along fast so I don't have to speak. Dot is being grabbed and prodded by Capitol reporters and people are yelling things out at him. Word must have spread about an Avox in Eight and the journalists are digging for answers. I even hear a few insulting names called out to him.

Dia and Rella were right when they said Avoxes weren't treated well by the Capitolites. The names called are positively disgusting and I don't want to hear them again. I glance at Dot who has his eyes on the ground as he tries to drown out the horrid words.

All the shouting and flashing is cut off when the train door slides close and the train bursts to life. But not in the direction it did when I was off to the Games, this time it goes the other way.

"We are off to District Twelve first," Dia says as she leads us down the train, "Then we work our way down until we reach the Capitol. We skip Eight though, we save that until last."

Dot and I trail behind her. I nudge him, "Don't listen to those people. They are just stuck up Capitol snobs. If they really knew you they wouldn't call you those things."

Dot looks up at me and smiles under his black fringe. He then whips out a little black notepad that Dia gave him to help everyone communicate and quickly scribbles on it.

The curly small writing says only two words- _'Thank-you"_

I return his grin, "That's okay." I grab his hand and give it a little squeeze before running to catch up with Dia on her pointy heels.

* * *

><p>It takes two whole days to get to District Twelve. Even in this super-fast train. District Twelve is right on the edge of Panem whereas Eight is closer to the centre. We have to pass through wide open plains and thick forests before we finally arrive at the coal district.<p>

And I am shocked when we arrive. Shocked because I always thought that District Eight was the greyest and most colourless place on earth, but Eight is like a rainbow compared to the dull lifelessness of District Twelve.

Grey literally hangs in the air, the black dust coating every little particle, even painted onto the citizens faces. Deep in the eyes of the olive skinned, dark haired people- grey hangs; filled with hunger and sadness. Crammed underneath their fingernails and plastered into the wrinkles of the older, ailing people.

The whole place is so still and slow, as if time doesn't even exist. The bright Hunger Games banners and posters of my face don't belong here. Nor do the forced cheers and claps in my honour. Everything is so dead.

"Makes Eight look like a palace, doesn't it?" Rella says as she nudges my side-we found her slumped in her bed on the first morning on the train. Dia didn't even know she was coming on the Tour. After we roused her from her sleep and asked her what she was doing she answered with a simple 'Just keeping my Tribute alive' before she fell back to sleep.

Dia was telling me before about how the drugs she takes to counteract her sever nightmares have pretty hefty side effects. Sometimes she sleeps for days on end and other times she doesn't know where she is. So far no pill or tablet has been successful in ridding her of her terrors.

"Not quite a palace," I reply as I wave to all the citizens below me. I stand on a balcony of the Justice Building, which is in even worse condition then Eight's is.

"They all look so hungry," Dia comments looking at the bunch of kids to the front of the crowd.

The relatives of the dead tributes has their own part sectioned off in the crowd, and one family looks like it has over a dozen kids to feed and no money to do so. They all look up at me sadly.

Here, in 12, I begin to realise how lucky District Eight has it. We are more community based. Everyday work and school breaks for a huge communal lunch. People give up their grain rations to be put together and divided amongst the entire District. People meet in the square with their bowls and get enough food to keep them going through the day- sometimes you want more, but no-one is ever starving.

The same doesn't happen here. I get glimpses of kids scrounging through bins and begging for crumbs at the bakery door. . .

"I can't wait until this is over," I breathe.

We only spend the night in Twelve. Attend a dinner party held by the mayor and a feast that could feed the entire District- but is only allowed for a selected few. I meet District Representatives, the Head Peacekeeper, the Twelve escort and mayor and his family. They all congratulate me on my success, but it's all just a formality.

District Eleven is slightly better than Twelve- but not much. It's just as poor and dead, but it is full of colour. Greens of the paddocks and the rainbow of blossoming fruits and flowers in the orchards.

Every District there are different colours- the silver of the metal and electronics in Three. The blue and yellow beaches and salty air in Four. The glimmering sparkly jewels and velvet materials in One. Every District has different things to offer, but all of them contain a few people who hate me because I killed their family members.

District Seven has to be one of the most beautiful Districts. All five senses are being pleasured beyond anything. The smell is earthy and fresh and the deep colours of the tree covered district is breathtaking. Birds sing in every tree and bounce from branch to branch. All of the people there are tanned and muscular, from all their days outside chopping wood. . .

* * *

><p>It is a bit of a relief to finally arrive into the Capitol. Where no one hates me or wants me dead- that is, no one except for the dear President Snow of course.<p>

When the train stops we are taken quickly to the Training Centre and back onto the floor I spent those last few days of my life.

It is already night time and I am instantly put to work in the Remake centre. A full body makeover; with sparkles and powders filling the air. I have to attend a party in my honour tonight in President Snow's own mansion. Dia and Rella are feeding me tips in between applications of lip gloss.

"What you say during this party is imperative," Rella says. "All the important people will be there. They will come around and talk to you and you need to keep up the whole 'innocent harmless' kid thing going. Or they will be suspicious. Snow will back up any of his actions depending on the opinions of the other people in power."

"So act scared and quiet," Dia adds, "Just like before the Games."

I nod and try to suck up all that information.

"And don't mention Dot. A lot of people here won't be happy with the President for sending him to Eight, and it could land you in trouble."

"Scared. Quiet. Innocent. Harmless. No Dot." I list, "Got it."

The party is in Snow's enormous perfect icy white mansion. Even though the weather here is pretty warm, the air in the mansion is cool and chilled, but there is no need for jackets or gloves. The centre of the room is dedicated to the large wooden dance floor where important multi-coloured people twirl around in time with the music that is played on a platform above the room. The outskirts of the dance floor is painted tables all displaying marvellous foods that could feed and entire district for weeks.

I spend my time around the cakes and sweets tables. Picking the frosted flowers off the cakes and licking the icing off the cookies and letting the sugar seep onto my tongue. Many people come over to me. They congratulate me on my wits and daring, ask questions about where I got my bead idea from and then depart quickly.

Dia floats around me always throwing a word or two in when I can't answer a question or when I begin to act awkward or uncomfortable. She is a huge help and always steers conversations into a direction I can follow.

Soon, I am full and growing tired of people asking for autographs for their children and getting photos. Sure, the food is amazing and the people colourful and beautiful, but my feet are aching and my cheeks are getting stiff from all my smiling. "Dia, how long until we can leave?" I ask.

"Just a few more hours," she replies, "Just act like you are having a good time."

"I'm trying."

"I know sweetie. I am going to go to the bathroom, I'll be back in a minute."

Dia hops away on her glittery high heels and I am left alone to the side of the room. I spot Dot across the other side- he has been required to serve tonight- being one of the biggest parties in the year, nearly all Avoxes are needed to serve drinks and hand out towels in the bathroom. I catch his eye and give him a smile, then make my way onto the dance floor to stand by him.

As I weave my way through the cluster of people my arm is grabbed roughly and I am spun to face a tall man with bushy angular eyebrows and a hard jaw. His lips and eyes are painted a dark blue and his teeth glitter as he talks.

"Hello Paisley, I'm Volio. Care to dance?"

"Uh- sure," I reply, searching for Dia but she isn't in sight. I have no choice but to accept.

He takes my hand and we begin to step from side to side.

"Quite a party they put on for you. And under such short notice," Volio says.

"I am very flattered by it," I reply. One of the sayings I've used numerous times tonight.

"I guess you are wondering what importance I have to this grand party? It's not easy to score and invite, you know." he says.

"Um. . ."

He isn't fazed by my confusion and continues to talk. "You see Paisley. I am an investor. And the Games are the biggest investment of my calendar."

"I'm not sure I am following. . ." I state.

"Some people call it gambling. But it's not a gamble when you know the outcome, is it? The Capitol government gets a hell of a lot of its money from these Games, because us citizens invest so much of our pockets into it, that's why we don't need to pay taxes. Now, I'm well known for my big plays and even bigger payouts. I always bet on the winner Paisley. And the winner always wins."

That's when I begin to piece things together. "But I won instead."

"Yes. You did. I had a few hundred thousand on Eris, just to get the ball rolling. _You _were on my Bloodbath list, along with your pathetic partner. But of course, your little _stunt _sent all my money out the window." His voice starts to drip with venom and the grip on my arm becomes forceful. "Do you know how much money I lost because of you? Do you know how much money the Capitol has lost because of you?!" Soon he is gripping me so hard that he is shaking. His voice is a growl and I have no words to try and extinguish his temper.

"You are going to pay for this Paisley." He says as he notices Dia returning from the bathroom. She quickly spots me and notices the fear on my face and the anger on Volio's. She is by my side in a second, but Volio quickly detaches himself and gets lost in the crowed.

"Why was Volio talking to you?" Dia asks, concerned. She must know him.

"Uh, um, nothing," I reply quickly, "He was just congratulating me."

Her eyebrow raises, but she says nothing more. I can tell she knows something is up. I am sure I will be interrogated by her tonight- somewhere more private.

I keep doing rounds. Meeting people, thanking them, taking a picture. A few younger girls even come up to me and ask for my autograph. Them- unlike their gambling fathers- actually like me, and thing that what I did in the area was cool and smart. They probably aren't old enough to get a kick out of watching people get slaughtered. Give it a few years. . .

The night is wrapped up when the President makes and appearance and gives a short speech. He reminds everyone to tune into tomorrow for my interview.

"As well as hearing the delights from Paisley's tour. The Capitol also has a big announcement that I am sure no one will want to miss."

It takes a few more moments before the crowd start to disperse. Dia wraps her arm around my shoulder and steers me to the door, briskly walking and dodging the press. Her mouth is set in a thin line.

* * *

><p><em>Also, thanks for anyone who is still sticking with this story. I have SO much planned for it, so thank-you so much!<em>

_Reviews are always appreciated!_

_Side note- has anyone ever watched Horrible Histories?! Because it's the best show ever and everyone should watch it!_


	13. 2-0

_Hey! Remember me! You probably don't seeing as it has been FOREVER since I updated. You know when you just lose the will to write and you just feel like everything you try to write is a failure and you might as well curl up in a corner and cry yourself to sleep because you'll never get anywhere in life? Yeah, well that's been me for the last ever. But it's all good now! I decided to suck it up and write again because I love all my reviews and readers and subscribers and I DON'T want to let you down!_

_Inspirational, I know right?_

_So, short chapter but it's better than nothing. I feel like this is where my story starts becoming different to other stories around. If you have stuck with me this far you deserve a medal! I hope you like where I am taking this story! _

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 13- 2.0 <strong>_

I'm standing under the stage. It's dark and you can hardly make out the people dressed in black; armed with earpieces and clipboards running around giving orders to anyone they can. Caesar stands on the floor above me, revving up the crowd with jokes and laughter.

Dressed in a polka dotted dress of black and white material- I blend into the darkness.

Too soon Caesar is introducing me and the plate underneath my feet is lifting me up towards the stage. Lights hit me- blinding bright. Cheers erupt and feet stamp. I smile shyly and give a timid wave before Caesar sweeps me over to sit down.

The interview drones on for ages. I answer like I always do. I am seriously beginning to get bored of all this sobbing and shrugging- and I begin to get the feeling the crowd does too. But we both pretend anyway.

We talk about my tour. The highlights, the food, the parties. It's dull and flat talk.

Soon it is summed up and Caesar is leading the audience to an ad break- but he reminds them to keep watching because Snow is making an appearance soon to announce something _big._

The spotlights draw away from the stage as the ad break begins and the audience breaks out into loud and rowdy discussions. Caesar leans over and gives me an encouraging grin.

"It won't be long until the next Games rolls along, Paisley. Then the spotlight will be off you and on someone else."

"I'm looking forward to it," I reply flatly. One the upside- he is right. When there is a shiny new victor no one will care about little Paisley. But on the negative side it only means that there is a new batch of kids being prepped to die.

Caesar gives me a half smile and pats my knee. Before too long the lights start swivelling again and the music begins to drone. Caesar puts on a winning grin and stares down the nearest camera.

"Now, for tonight's special announcement!" he sings, "We have President Snow joining us for what is sure to be a game-changer."

Right no cue, Snow glides out. Dressed in a proper suit complete with a tie and shiny shoes, a charmed red grin plastered onto his pasty skin. He twinkles his eye at me before taking a stance in his designated spot and glaring down the barrel of the camera.

His words sound as sweet as perfume but they are laced with poison. "Good Evening beautiful Penam," He charms, "This year's Games -as you know- have set a record for being the world's shortest. Because of that we decided to move up the Victory Tour so we kept the action coming. But there was more than one reason for doing that. .. For the late few weeks the people of the Capitol have been working tirelessly to make this possible. As a nation, we feel that there was not enough time to fully enjoy the usual festivities that accompany the Games, for that reason, we have decided to have another Hunger Games to compensate for the lost time. Think of it as the 66th Hunger Games 2.0."

Everything explodes. Stomping. Cheering. Clapping. Sounds of utter elation.

No. no. No no no.

Snow takes a moment to turn around and smile warming at me.

"In a few months we will have our beloved Paisley back with us again to mentor two new tributes for her District. She, along with our other mentors will be bringing in their finest tributes all for the entertainment of the country. The new Games will replace the time that the Victory tour usually occupies. The Gamemakers have been staying up until all hours of the night, preparing a new arena full of the twist and turns to make this Hunger Games the best it can be."

Oh, perfect. Just perfect. I thought that the recap video had put enough blame on me. But this just perfection- making me causes the death of even more children that would have otherwise lived. What a way to turn the world against me even more. Perfect.

"Are you looking forward to coming back to our wonderful city so soon, Paisley?" Snow asks.

"Overwhelmed with excitement," I reply.

Caesar steps between the lasers shooting from our eye contact and breaks the tension. "So make sure everyone pulls out their Sunday best for the reaping that will be taking place in a few months! We look forward to seeing you all then. May the odds be ever in your favour- goodnight!"

Lights off. Music stops. Feet begin to shuffle away. I stay on the stage whilst props and furniture and lights are moved around me. Dia has to come onto stage and drag me back to my room.

* * *

><p>Rella is sitting in the living room flipping through a thick black book. "This can't be possible. There has to be something. . ." she says to herself.<p>

"Don't bother," Dia says. "They would have found a way around the rules."

"But listen to this," Rella continues, "'_The Hunger Games will occur once a year for the entire duration of Capitolite rule.' _It says it right here! _Once _a year!_"_

"I'm sure there is a rule saying that they can override the amount of times the Hunger Games can occur." Dia says.

"There isn't," Rella snaps back, slamming the book shut.

"Well they would have made one. It's the Capitol. They do whatever they want."

"Yes. You do." She snarls.

They continue to bicker. After a while, I get irritated. "Shut up both of you! Who cares if this is legal or not! That's really not the problem is it!"

They both look ashamed of themselves. "Paisley, you can't blame yourself for this," Rella says.

"Well, I do. I should have just let myself die in the arena."

"Don't say that," Dia says. "Just go to sleep, we can deal with this in the morning."

I know I won't be able to get a wink of sleep but I oblige none the less. I pass Dot on my way to my room. He tries to pat me on the back but I shrug it away and trudge down the hall.

* * *

><p>Somehow I <em>did <em>sleep. And I slept for way too long. It's midday when I finally open my eyes. The room is still dark, but light is fighting its way through the blinds, causing dust to dance in the shards of light.

I am warm all over. And oh so comfy. It takes a minute before I realise why I feel so miserable despite my warmth. Then it dawns and I feel cold and damp.

I lay in bed for ages before I drag myself out and into the living room. Rella is there, a phone stuck to her ear and a notepad in front of her. Her pen is balancing on the paper, shifting back and forth as Rella writes. After a while she lets the pen drop and her shoulders hunch. "That's what I thought . .. I guess so. . . thanks anyway. . ." she sighs and lets the phone tumble next to the pen.

"Who was that?" I ask as I move away from the door frame.

"Beetee. Victor from Three."

"Why were you talking to him?"

Rella scrunches her nose, "I hoped that maybe he'd be able to find some sort of glitch or rule that could overrun the new Games. Of course- he couldn't. I thought that much but it was worth a shot."

"Worth a shot," I repeat. "So. . . when will we be coming back?"

"Back? For Hunger Games 2.0 you mean?" she says, her voice dripping with disgust at the thought.

"Well yeah."

"I won't be coming back. You're the new mentor now. It's your job."

"But. . . but I don't know how to mentor. Aren't you going to teach me or something?"

"You're the first Victor I've been able to keep alive. I don't think I have much to teach."

"But you said that you were going to try and keep me alive! Snow is still after me, you can't just ditch me now."

"Paisley, don't you understand? This puts you in the clear. These new Games, they have wiped away all the problems you have caused."

"No they haven't! You think Snow is just going to forget what I did! I made a fool out of the Capitol!"

"And now they have made a fool out of you. Because of you twenty-four more kids are going to have their lives taken away. And the Districts are going to blame you for that. Snow has found the perfect way to fix the problems you caused. I don't have to keep you alive anymore."

"I can't believe you are just going to leave me," I say.

Rella shakes her head at me. "You think I want to come back here, Paisley? You think I enjoy it here? Being in this room, being in this city makes my nightmares unbearable. Every night I see the people I killed. The throats I slit. Every night I am in this hell hole they get worse." Tears start pooling in her eyes. Her voice cracks and she sounds like a small innocent girl. "I can't bear it here Paisley. I- I- can't. I can't come back here."

I don't know what to think . . . this person- someone I always thought was so strong and harsh. Someone who doesn't hold back and says things how they are- she is cracking up, right in front of my eyes. Behind her stern mask I see a girl- like me- small and damaged. This is the first time I have ever seen Rella as a person.

"Rella. . . I can't do this without you." I say

She stares at the ground and takes a prolonged breath before staring straight into my eyes. Her mask comes back on. "Well you are going to have to."

* * *

><p>Rella is gone before the day is over. She ordered the first train she could back to Eight. Dia tells me that I shouldn't be mad at her because Rella isn't completely sane. . . she tells me that when she left the games she was in the psychiatric ward for weeks before she could face the audience. Sever mood swings and schizophrenia are some of the many issues she was diagnosed with. . . some of her habits couldn't even be explained.<p>

"She was herself for a moment, Dia. Just for one moment I saw the girl she was before she went into the Games."

Dia half-smiles, "I'm sure that girl is still in her somewhere. But she is too damaged to want to stick around."

"Why is she _so _damaged? What happened to her in the arena?"

Dia hesitates, "I don't think it's my position to tell you that. It's not something she likes people to know."

"But the whole nation watched it. It's not like it's private anyway."

"Paisley. . . you don't really understand what it's like for all the Victors. I mean, of course you do- all those kids died for you to live but you are different. Every single victor had to endure _weeks _in that arena, not minutes. They all were starved and cut and bruised. They had to kill people with their bare hands. And when you do that you are scarred. . . scarred beyond repair. And there is no going back. I'm not saying that you don't have it tough but you are different from them, you took the shortcut."

I want to yell at her. To tell her that she doesn't know anything, that I _am _scarred and that I am just as bad as everyone else. . . but she is right. Only now do I realise how lucky I am; compared to others. Oh so many mentors are like Rella- drug addled, alcoholics, metal disorders, butchered beyond repair, lost themselves completely. I am the lucky one- I still have my being, I am still the Paisley that went into that arena. I am still the insecure girl who cries at the tiniest of things. Of the 66 victors that have walked out from these Games, I am a lucky one.

* * *

><p><em>Hey, probably my suckiest chapter ever. . . I wanted to make it extra intense and stuff but it just died. Yay.<em>

_Off note- New obsession= Derren Brown. Such a mind fuck._

_Anyway, Subscribe and review 3!_


	14. Little Things

_Bonjour! An update that didn't take several months to appear! YAY!_

_and also, a decently sized chapter! I am really starting to pull my crap together. That's right. Be proud._

_Anyone seen Zombieland? Quality movie. Anyway, that's where I got the little of this chapter, and the little section at the end from. _

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 14- The Little Things<strong>_

We go home after a few days. But not before I hit the town and get the Capitol-works.

Golden swirls are patterned from my fingers all the way up my arms. They sparkle as they weave up my skin, like gold dust has been encrusted onto me. I get my hair done- set in perfect curls sitting proactively on my shoulders. I go to a store that sells small round lenses that you put into your eyes to change colour and immediately buy some- gold ones that sparkle, just like Dot's. Dia swoops over me, reminding me to get things that aren't permanent and that will fade- just in case I regret anything. The lady said the swirls will blend in a year or two and the hair will droop after a few weeks.

Right before I got on the train I saw something that I couldn't pass. A pet store, filled with exotic and colourful animals- some I have never seen before. Fluorescent fish. cats with hair dipped in dyes. Dogs with tails like balls of wool. Purple and pink monkeys. Tiny shimmering reptiles and lizards. None of the animals look authentic or natural.

The colours are captivating but cruel.

As I went to leave the shop I saw something gorgeous. A bird perched on a small rod of wood, its wings bursting with all the colours of the rainbow. However, unlike all the other animals- these colours look natural.

"It's a Rainbow Lorikeet," Dia says. "They used to be from a country known as Australia a very long time ago."

"How did it get so colourful?" I ask.

"It's not dyed and painted like the rest of these animals. It's just the way they are."

"He's beautiful."

"Why don't you buy him, I'm sure he would make great company for you back in Eight."

He sits next to me now. Perched on a bit of metal in his arched cage that swings ever so slightly as the train slides. I want to let him out to fly but Dia says it is unwise- as he could fly away.

"Have you thought of a name for him yet?" Dia asks.

"Not yet."

"How about Ziv?"

"Ziv?" I say, testing it out on the tongue. "That's a strange name."

"It means bright and radiant in an old language." She says, rolling a finger down his neck. "I think it suits him."

"What do you think?" I ask the bird and he squawks his agreement. "Ziv it is then."

* * *

><p>There is no celebration held for me when I get off the train like last time. No cameras or balloons or streamers. No cheering people rejoicing for an Eight Victor. A tumble weed might as well roll past to show how utterly silent and dead it is.<p>

"I'm going to be in for a rough few months, aren't I Dia?" I say stepping off the train and onto the platform. I turn around to wait as Dia steps off, but she stay planted in the trains clutches. It dawns on me. . . "You aren't staying in Eight?"

She doesn't want to look me in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Paisley. I can't. I don't have the authorisation. I requested to stay but it wasn't allowed."

"Don't worry, it's fine," I lie.

"Cece and Ritt should be here in a minute to pick you up. They'll look after you until I am back for the. . . well, until I come back."

The train is gone before Cece arrives. Dot and I sit on the platform stairs waiting and waiting. I decide to take Ziv out of his cage and he happily positions himself on my shoulder where he squawks gleefully. The weather in Eight reflects my mood. Grey and overcast. The air is thick and muggy and you can see pillars of smog rising from the factories in the distance. Eight is such a miserable place.

"Do you like it here, Dot?"

He reaches up to pat the bird and nods quickly.

"That makes one of us."

"Mummy! They're she is!" I hear a little girl shriek and I whip around. "Oooh, look at the sparkly swirls! So pretty!" 6-year-old Lacy, with her blonde curls and white flowy dress runs up and tugs on my arm. Cece is close behind her with her baby boy Baize sitting on her hip. Ritt comes up the tail.

"Sorry we are late," Cece says, "Had trouble getting the kids ready. Welcome home, Paisley." She swoops down to give me a peck on the cheek. "With the tour over things can start going back to normal. . . well, as normal as possible."

The train station isn't far from the Victors Village, so we walk. Cece and Ritt do own a car but they don't ever need to travel far enough across Eight to ever need to use it. The streets are empty. Everyone is busy working in the factories to be out on the street. The only sound that can be heard is the chugging and steaming of the machines and engines through the walls and the occasional shuffling of feet. Ritt carries Ziv's cage whilst he stays sitting on my shoulder. Lacy coos over him and runs to keep up with me.

"Just drop off your stuff then come on over to our house," Ritt says, "The victors are having afternoon tea there."

"Will Rella be there?" I ask.

". . . uh, no. She's been avoiding all the victors for the last few days. She likes to shut herself up everyone now and then. I'm sure you don't need to worry about her."

I set up a bowl of seed and water in my room and set up a perch for Ziv to sit on. He immediately flies towards the window that overlooks my back garden- alive with blooming trees and flowers. A shovel sits on a pile of upturned dirt and abandoned pots litter the ground. Someone has been gardening out there. . .

"Hope you don't mind," Cece says when Dot and I rock up at her door. "I have an obsession with gardening and I thought that I could do yours up, seeing as ours is a little. . . full." Out her kitchen window you can see the styled hedges and weaving vines. "It helps me pass the time, now that I don't have to work. It's my talent. Sometimes that Capitol come and takes pictures and stuff. You'll need a talent too soon."

"I don't have any talents. . ." I tell her.

"I'm sure you do! Ritt is a photographer. He has a dark room in one of spare rooms and his pictures sell for a small fortune in the Capitol. He donates all the money to the Eight shelters of course- like we need any more money. Woof doesn't have a talent anymore, he's getting old. But he used to do wood carvings, you should see his house, can hardly move it's so full of carvings."

"What about Rella?"

"She can play the piano."

Woah. Didn't expect that.

"We can pop down to the store tomorrow if you want and look for something that you can do. I'm sure we will find something." Cece says. "Woof's in the living room, go and say hello."

Old frail Woof sits on a rocking chair, his head lolling around on his neck as he dozes. I look at Dot who silently chuckles at him. We both tiptoe past him- careful not to wake him- and sit down on the sofa. I watch him as he sleeps, his eyelids flutter and fists clench- it's evidently not a peaceful sleep.

Lacy runs in the room booming her feet on the ground. "Wake up Uncy Woofy! Wake upppppp! We have visitors! Don't be ruuuuude!" She jumps onto his lap and Woof snaps awake and looks around, flustered.

"Whaaa-!" he exclaims.

I can't refrain my giggles. My fist is stuck into my moth whilst my other hand clutches my side which bounces as I laugh.

Woof sighs, "_Lacy!_"

Lacy smiles up at him. "Paisley is back from her trip."

"I can see that," he says, "Welcome home."

I smile back at him, having calmed down from my laughing.

"Doesn't her skin look pwetty!" Lacy says leaning over and stroking the golden swirls.

"Thanks," I say . Woof focuses his eyes on the dye and purses his lips.

Cece comes in holding a plate of biscuits and a jug of water. "Now, I think we need to talk about this new Games that the Capitol have come up with. We all know why they are doing it, but Rella has told me in _explicit detail _that she is _not _going to mentor with you Paisley."

"She has told me as much," I say.

"And I would love to let you stay home whilst Ritt and I went to mentor in your place, but by law you are required to mentor directly after your Games."

"Weird law," I say.

"The Capitol likes to keep a close eye on the new victors- they are always pretty unpredictable for the first few years. Anyway, Woof is aging too much to be able to handle mentoring and there is Baize and Lacy to think about. So . . ."

"-So I'll be mentoring by myself?"

"No, no of course not," Cece says quickly. "I guess I can get Ritt to watch the kids and I can go. . . he will be more that capable. Woof, you can help out, can't you?"

"Yay! Uncy Woof!" Lacy yells.

"I don't think I have a choice," Woof chuckles.

"Right, okay. Well then. I guess that's what we will do. I'll go with you. . . until you learn the ropes." Cece says, still unsure.

"So when will the reaping happen?" I ask.

"4 months," Cece replies.

"That soon." I sigh. "Everyone in Eight is going to hate me."

"Don't think that," Cece tries, "It isn't your fault. It's the Capitols. People know that."

"Yeah, but it's easy to forget that and just blame me."

* * *

><p>The next day Dot, Cece, Lacy and I go into town. It's Sunday- meaning people have the afternoon off work. We don't have any weekends in Eight and Sunday afternoon is the only time people have time to cook, clean, shop and play. District Eight kids go to school in the morning then spend the rest of the day in the factories. Unless you're a merchant you work non-stop.<p>

The streets and shops are full. People barter loudly over the price of needles and blankets. Kids run up and down playing with scrap balls of material. Now, with a large wad of cash under my belt I can go into the shops that I never bothered looking at. The material shop- where people buy beautiful laces and silks to make dresses into. The Tool shop, filled with nails and wood to fix crumple houses and leaky roofs. The lolly shop that sits seductively on the end of the street- taunting all the poor penniless kids who can't afford a wrapper, let alone the sweet inside it. That's where I head first. I buy a handful of everything and the lady packs them in red and white striped bags sealed off with tape.

A few kids stare into the window, admiring the striped delights with watery mouths. When I leave the store they look at me- then, realising who I am- they slink backwards.

I feel my heart drop. This is exactly what I was expecting.

"Here." I say holding up one of the bags, "Take some."

The kids look at each other, unsure, but they don't refuse. They run forward and shove their hands into the bag and grab handfuls of mints and chocolates. When the bag is empty I grab out another and continue handing them out. More and more kids swarm to have a taste.

"You think this fixes everything?" a girls voice snaps from behind me. I turn around to see a girl with reddish hair and freckles spotted across her sharp nose snarling at me. "Just give the kids some lollies and they will forgive you for causing 2 of them to die?"

She's older than me, in her late teens and a long way into her time in the reaping ball. And she is completely right.

"That not what I was trying to do," I tell her.

She scoffs. "Taking pity of these kids is not going to gain you any forgiveness."

Cece walks out of the shop and notices the girl. "Is there a problem here?"

"Yes," the girl pipes, "The problem is Paisley thinking she can just walk around town like nothing is wrong. All done up with ink and expensive hair-dos. You don't belong here."

"Listen here, Chaye. Paisley didn't want this to happen. And if I were you I'd be keeping your bloody mouth shut. You don't know what it's like to be in an arena."

"Nor does she," she spits.

Cece storms up to her. The kids that were picking through the bags begin to disperse. "Chaye. Listen to me right now. You leave Paisley alone or their will be hell to pay." Chaye backs away. "C'mon Paisley. We have things to do."

Cece stomps down the street and Lacy, Dot and I have to run to keep up.

"Thanks," I tell her.

"Don't mention it."

"How did you know that girl?"

"Chaye worked in the factory I did before the games. Always says it how it is, even when she was younger. Doesn't know when to shut the bloody hell up."

The next shop we go into is the craft shop. It's small and dust coats all the merchandise. A small amount of people would go into this shop and an even smaller amount would actually be able to buy anything. I wonder how it has stayed in business long enough for dust to settle.

A small man with a hunched over back and thick glasses appears from behind the counter. His eyes light up when he sees Cece. "Welcome m'dear!" he says coming out from behind the counter and clasping her hands in his.

"Lovely to see you, Gray. Just needed to get more film for Ritt," Cece replies.

"Of course! Of course!" he disappears behind some shelves.

Cece turns to me, "Keep your eyes open for anything you like. I'm sure there is something you can use for a talent in here."

I start shuffling through the stacks of boxes and rows of pencils. I've never been much of an artist. I mean, I can draw a pretty good stick figure but nothing good enough to be able to make a 'talent' out of it. I continue looking- in the corner sits a pile of multi-coloured pots stacked up to the roof. All arranged in colour order- red, orange, yellow, green, blue purple, pink and all the colours in between. Paints.

"Can you paint?" Cece asks noticing my interest.

I laugh, "Not at all."

"Hm, well maybe you could try abstract art- no talent required. All you have to do is throw paint here and there on a canvas and give it a fancy name. And _bam _you've got art. The Capitol eat up stuff like that."

"Abstract?"

"Yeah, I'm sure Gray has a few pieces lying around somewhere. Gray! Once you've found the film do you think you could track down a few examples of abstract art for me?"

"Anything you want!" Gray calls back. Soon he totters out with his hands piled high with canvas and boxes. "Found the film. And the canvases. Take a look little one."

He slides them onto the counter and spreads them out so I can see them. . . they are all gorgeous. Bright. Colours flying this way at that. No pattern. No order. Just smeared onto the canvas by a varying of methods. It doesn't look like it takes any skill at all. A toddler could do it.

"And this is worth a lot of money?" I say sceptically.

"To the right buyer," Gray says.

"What do you think?" Cece asks.

"It's perfect."

I buy two of every shade of paint and a few dozen canvases to paint on. An easel. Some brushes. A smock. A palette. Even a beret that I thought was comical. Cece pays for her film first.

"It comes to thirty-seven dollars today Cece," Gray says adding her purchases up.

"Here you go," She hands him a one-hundred dollar bill. "Keep the change of course."

Ah, that's how he has stayed in business for so long. With a little victor investment.

"You're too kind, Cece," Gray says. "And yours comes to one-hundred and twenty dollars.

I fish through my pocket and hand him over two bills. "You can keep the change on this one too."

Cece smiles down on me and squeezes my shoulder.

* * *

><p>At home the easel and canvas are set up. A tarp covers the new soft carpet and I arm myself with a large tipped paint brush and a few pots of paint that I line up on a table.<p>

"I'll leave you to it then," Cece says with a grin then takes Lacy's hand and leads her out.

Dot takes a seat on a nearby couch and sits back whilst I tilt my head at the white slate and bite my lip. "Where am I supposed to start?"

Dot shrugs and smiles. Then he pushes himself up and picks up a sponge of his own. He dunks it into a pot of cobalt blue paint and then takes aim and flings it at the canvas. Paint splatter across it and some droplets ricochet onto my face and onto the uncovered wall. Dot widens his eyes and tucks in his lips. He gives me an apologetic look but I just laugh and start randomly swinging my paintbrush across the canvas, creating strange designs.

A few hours later Dot and I have numbers of canvas lying against the wall drying. The tarps did nothing because both the carpet and the wall have evidence sprawled across them. Dot and I are covered from head to toe in specks of paint.

We can't help but laugh. Although Dot is still silence I can feel his laughter in the air. A very small part of me knows that I wouldn't be able to enjoy this freedom- although limited- if I didn't go to the Games. Of all the victors here, I really am better off. And although these new Games are hanging over me like the smog of Eight, I can forget . . . even if for an hour or two and enjoy the little things it has brought with it.

* * *

><p><em>So in this chapter I just wanted to show that Paisley really does have it better off compared to everyone else. Some more about our Eight Victors. And Lacy is just a cutie, don't you think? Cute Dot and Paisley moment too, they are so going to be the best of friends.<em>

_Reveiwing is ALWAYS more than appreciated! and it really does encourage me to write faster! *hint hint*_

_Untill the next chapter (which will hopefully be up next week, but exams are coming up next week -yay for chemistry and biology- too so it may be the week after) 3_


	15. Growing Up

_Hey hey! So after about an eternity I decided I would update again! Yay! Don't have many excuses as to why I haven't updated- just getting lazy. But I am starting to write an original story which is pretty exciting! Maybe one day in the distant future I will actually write someone half decent that I can get published then I can thank all of my lovely readers! _

_So, Hunger Games 2.0 is here! Should be interesting. fingers crossed._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 15- Growing Up<strong>_

Four months pass way too fast. And it is all a blur. Dinners with the victors. Painting. Helping Cece with the gardening. Playing with Lacy and Baize. Watching Woof whittle at clumps of wood. The occasional glimpse of Rella from her window. One sided talks with Dot. Singing lessons with Ziv, the bird. Day after day.

Too soon the cameras are back. Reporters not even bothering to knock at my door to take photos of me. Capitol reporters interrogate me on what I have been up to since last time they saw me. I don't really have an answer for them . . .

The District gets more gloomy than usually. They have to fake more excitement then they do in a typical year as the cameras fly all of their faces back to the Capitol. The staging in the town square is set up for the second time this year and all the banners are taken out of storage- they didn't even have enough time to collect dust.

I cop dirty looks from everyone. But no one more than the teenagers- the ones like Chaye from the lolly store. Who are in their final few years in the reaping ball, but have their chances of dying heighten because of me. A few people are sympathetic towards me. Pat me on the back and give me kind but sad looks. They try not to blame me. They try.

I wonder why Dia hasn't come early to stay with me. It's the day of the Reaping and there still hasn't been any sign of her. I decide ask Ritt where she could be.

"Probably too busy getting ready for the Reaping," he says pulling a comb through Lacy's hair. Ritt is left getting the kids dressed whilst Cece makes plans for our trip to the Capitol and drops our stuff off at the train station "You'll have plenty of time to catch up with her on the train."

* * *

><p>A clock strikes and everyone's heads automatically look up into the air. It's time.<p>

A stream of people flow into the city square. I follow them but instead of being roped off into pens like cattle, I am lead to the stage.

And it feels like I've stepped through time. Stumbling onto this wooden platform only _months _ago. Crying and blubbering whilst everyone in the audience avoided my gaze- just like they are now.

When I make my way up on to the stage I see Cece has already taken her seat. Ritt wraps a hand around my shoulder and guides me up the steps whilst he bounces baby Baize on his hip. Little Lacy climbs onto her mother's lap and Woof hobbles up the stairs behind me. Rella is shuffling her way through the crowd who are tense and brittle with bleak anticipation. Us victors take a seat and wait.

When the mayor gives a speech and introduces Eight's escort I crane my neck, itching to see Dia's bright ever-changing hair and jewels lips. My jaw swings when the woman gliding up the stairs isn't Dia. . .She is tall- too tall. Her knees don't lift when she walks so it looks like she slides across the stage. Her hair is a violent zapping purple that makes her white skin look sickly. The shocking shade is continued throughout her whole outfit- electric purple lipstick applied too heavily. Striking nails. A painful puffy dress with too many frills and bows.

"Hello! Hello my dear District Eight!" she says, but her lips hardly move. "My name is Tullia, and I am your brand new escort straight of the train from the Capitol!"

"Ugly name," Cece whispers in my ear. I can stop the tips of my mouth curving up.

"Purple is this games colour!" Tullia announces, "And I must admit, I have really gone to extremes to try and be as committed as I can!"

"Shame it makes you look like a giant grape," Cece whispers again.

"I must admit that I was a rushed makeover due to the fact that these games were sprung on all of us," she says, under the impression that people actually care. "But I think I did well with what time I had." She smiles down on the blank-faced crowd, oblivious.

"Now, I have to read you something straight from the president himself," Tullia says taking out a piece of card which she briskly reads off. "Due to the sudden conclusion of the 66th Hunger Games, The Capitol has decided to hold the 66th and a half Hunger Games in order to compensate for the benefit of Panem.-"

Cece fails to hold back her scoff.

Tullia puts away the card and clasps her hands together. "Let's get down to the fun stuff now, shall we?!"

No one replies.

"Ladies first, as always." She takes off her purple studded gloves and slips her hand into the bowl. It's weird thinking that everyone my age has their name in that bowl accept me. . .

"And our first tribute for District Eight is. . . Chaye Arnott!"

A tall red headed girl from the very front of the crowd – where the 18-year-old stand-emerges. Her freckles and her furious expression takes me back to that day in the lolly store. She's the girl that had a go at me for causing the second Hunger Games. . . and now she is in them.

She stares directly at me as she gets onto the stage. She doesn't listen to Tullia's congratulations but rather tightens her fists and flares her nostrils. The only thing stopping her from punching my right here and now is the cluster of armed Peacekeepers and the cameras buzzing.

"Well aren't you a tough cookie, ey?" Tullia says, "Not blubbering on like most tribute do. . ." I can't help but think that comment it aimed at me. " And now for the gentlemen."

She approaches the ball and everyone's eyes follow her hand. . . everyone except Chaye, she keeps her gaze glued to me.

"And the District Eight boy is- Weyve Cartmen!"

A boy from the 16-year-old section approaches the stage. He is tall and lanky- not much muscle at all. But he puts on a brave face and stops his arms from shaking too noticeably.

"And that's all for today folks, everybody tune in when they get home to see who your lovely tributes are up against!"

The crowd disperse quickly and the tributes are quickly escorted into the Justice Building. Chaye still stares me down as she leaves. I know that if she didn't have to say goodbye to her family right now she would be ripping my limbs off. . .

"We have an hour before we need to be at the train," Cece says. "I'm going to wait her and escort the tributes to the train after they have said their goodbyes. Will you be right to make it to the train by yourself?"

"Yeah yeah, I'll be okay," I say distantly.

"Dot will be waiting for you there. See you soon."

She gives me a hug before she follows the tributes into the building. Leaving me in the empty square- the last of the crowd are disappearing around corners and down lanes. Going home to eat lunch and thank their stars for another year of safety.

I climb off the stage and begin to slowly walk to the train station- kicking up dust with my feet and nudging stones with the tip of my shoes. I look down at the grey pebbles and dirt unable to shake the memories of the last reaping. It seems so long ago that I had to be dragged on stage. It feels like a different person.

As I walk a small piece of colour catches my eye. I twist my neck and see a strip of yellow material fighting the dust and dirt that plasters it. My eyes pop as I remember my yellow blanket that I used as a dress for my reaping. Could that be it? Still here? Waiting for me to stumble across it?

I bend down and snatch at it with my fingertips. More material comes from the dust that has been covered up by trampling feet. It's dirty and more ripped than ever but I'm sure, I'm sure that it is my blanket. The one that meant everything to me. The one that I reached out for as I was taken onto the stage after I was reaped.

Looking at it now, with new eyes. Eyes that have seen the flamboyant colours of the Capitol. The pastels of the sweets in the lolly store. The vivid smears of paint. The deep and warm colour of blood. . . The yellow that I once thought was gold looks dull and dead.

I think about picking it up and taking it home. But. . . no. . . I cant. I need to leave that life behind and learn how to live in this new life. I need to stop caring about colours and material and I need to start caring about things that matter. The lives of kids just like me. Who are relying on me to try and keep them alive for as long as I can.

The Games change people. . . that's what Dia said. But she doesn't think they have changed me, I don't think anyone thinks I have changed. But I have. The Games took away my chance to be a normal shy 12-year-old. They made me grow up.

* * *

><p>Dot and I sit in the dining room of the train. I file through the piles of gourmet food but settle on an apple to chew on. Dot hums to himself as he folds a candy wrapper in his hands.<p>

I hear footsteps echoing down the hall. Four pairs. Cece and Tullia bringing in Weyve. . .and Chaye. I gulp.

Tullia is the first to enter. Looking stupid in her purple dress and lipstick chipped on her teeth. Next is Chaye and she instantly spots me and stomps over.

She rips the apple out of my hand and I jump up in an attempt at defence. She grabs me by the shoulder and forces me back against the wall. Dot jumps and watches on, flustered.

"_This is all because of YOU!" _Chaye screams in my face. I struggle against her but she is so much stronger and bigger than me.

"Get off her Chaye!" Cece yells. But Chaye ignores her.

"_It was my last year! I WAS SAFE UNTIL YOU CAME ALONG!"_

Chaye is quickly ripped off me and Cece has her pinned to the wall on the other side of the train. She spits in her face and she yells at her to stay away.

I try to catch my breath. Weyve is standing in the doorway as a witness. He doesn't look like he feels sorry for me. He thinks I deserved it . . .but I don't think he feels as strongly as Chaye does.

"No fighting with your victors!" Tullia shrieks, thinking that she is helping in some way.

"_She _is not a victor," Chaye spits. "She is a murderer, and a cheat!"

"Shut _up_!" Cece yells jamming her hand into Chaye's windpipe to stop any sound from escaping.

It's strange seeing Cece like this. I cast her as the loving mother but this is anything but motherly. She looks younger, stronger. I can imagine that this is what she was like when she won the Hunger Games.

"Listen to me, Chaye. Paisley and I are your one and only chance to survive this. So you _attacking _her is not going to buy you any points. If you want us to put some effort into keeping you alive then you better bloody well stop being a sook. What does it matter that this was your last year? You got reaped and you are going to have to deal with it. Or you might as well kill yourself now." Cece releases her grip on Chaye's throat and takes a seat, exhaling loudly.

Cece then composes herself, brushes her pants down and takes a graceful seat at the table. Chaye is still huffing and staring daggers at me. She finally shakes her head, turns on her heel and storms out the door, hitting her shoulder in Weyve and spitting "coward" under her breath.

I step away from the wall and rub my shoulder with my hand. It throbs but not too badly. I feel like I want to cry but I tell myself to toughen up. I left my blanket behind, I left my old life behind and now I have to be strong. I take in a big sniff through my nose and square my shoulders. No more tears.

"What happened to Dia?" Cece asks as I sit down next to Dot, who pats me on the back comfortingly.

"Who?" Tullia squeaks, picking up a knife and fork and delicately slicing a strawberry into perfect quarters.

"Dia," Cece repeats, "Our escort."

Tullia laughs lightly, "Oh, you mean the _old _escort. She has been demot- oh, I mean _pro_moted. To District Eleven."

"Promoted?"

"She wasn't suited to this District, apparently."

"But she has been our escort for years," Cece protests.

"The Capitol decided it needed an upgrade," Tullia says smiling as she pops a strawberry quarter into her overly large purple lips.

"Hm," Cece says giving me a look.

"Anyway, I need to go fix my hair before the Reaping recaps," Tullia informs us, "Always need to look my best!" She totters out, balancing on her overly tall heels.

Cece sighs, "Holy crap, I want to punch the living daylights out of her."

I grin.

"No but seriously, Dia was the only decent escort and now we are stuck with the typical Capitol trash."

"Do. . . do you think we'll see her again?" I say, crossing my fingers. Dia was the first friend I ever had. She promised she would help me through whatever I had to deal with but now she can't keep that promise.

". . . I think this is Snow's first punishment," Cece says carerfully. "He knows how close you are. He is trying to take away someone you love."

"So, I won't see her?" My heart sinks.

"If she has been moved to District Eleven, then I am sure you will see her again. She will be making her way to the Capitol just as we are."

I take a breath of relief. I can't lose someone so caring and lovely like Dia. I can't lose someone who was there for me when no one else was. . .

"I guess we better go see the reaping now, see who we're are up against this year. . ."

* * *

><p><em>So I thought that Paisley needs to stop being so innocent and helpless and try to start and grow up a bit, which is what I wanted to start to develop in this chapter. Also, Dia is gone for now which is oh-so-sad, right? Plus Tullia is a bit of a bitch. Cece is so bad-ass cool.<em>

_By the way, everyone watch Derren Brown Apocalypse if you have a spare 2 hours. Youtube it. You wont regret it because it is the best thing you will ever see in your life. Not joking. Do it. Now. Plz_

_Hopefully I will update soon! I swear reviews and followers/favorites increase my productivity rate!_

_Review whore 4 lyf_


	16. Mentors

_So this would have to be the first time in forever that i have actually updated within a millennium of my last update. And you know what, I have had this chapter sitting for a good week just waiting to be uploaded but my blooming internet was too stupid and wouldn't let me upload it. So I am proud of myself. I'm getting back into this story again and It's starting to flow more, which is good._

_This is a chapter about mentoring -hints in the title- and some other victors pop up that we all know and love. We also are reunited with an old favorite from earlier in the story- which some people have asked about whether they were coming back- which they are! yay_

_**Chapter 16- Mentor**_

The Careers are the only worry this Games. The girl from One is 'too little to be a threat' according to Cece. She is probably strong, but the other careers could kill her in an instant. The boy from One is gorgeous, floaty blonde hair and a gleaming smile, but he is too much of a 'princess' to want to get his hands dirty.

Girl from Two is 'too slow', her sheer size will be her downfall. And the boy from Two- Caius knocks me off my feet. His pointed face and angled nose are the exact image of a rat, and his large teeth cause him to be a spitting image of Eris.

"He's her brother," Cece says. "Careers often run in the family."

"And even though his sister died. . . he is still going to go in the Games?"

"Of course. District Two doesn't have great family bonds. They just want the glory."

Caius and the girl from Four are the biggest threats, with the Four boy looking like he can't even count to ten.

Cece and I watch each tribute standing on their chariots from the mentor headquarters. Each District gets their own large mentor room. The back wall is completely covered in TV screens with a desk underneath them that is pretty much made up entirely of buttons. Cece tells me I'll get the hang of it eventually. . .

One side of the wall is dedicated to Eight's boy tribute and the other side is dedicated to the girl. A big screen in the middle shows what is happening on Panem TV screens whilst the other screens will show various locations in the arena. There is a giant screen at the top that will have a map of the arena along with glowing dots that show the location of every tribute. There are a number of beds in the room as well as a bathroom.

Right now the main screen is showing District Seven –dressed as tacky trees- on a wooden chariot pulled by two milky brown horses. The boy is muscled but the girl is small and weedy, barely over 14-years-old.

District Eight come rolling out. My old stylist has been 'promoted' and District Eight has been allocated a pair of new stylists who aren't all that creative- with both Chaye and Weyve are dressed as giant balls of wool.

Pike has finally had the opportunity to embrace the style he wanted to reflect in my outfits. He has District Twelve which he has been dressed in skimpy coal miner outfits which reveal much more than they cover.

No one's outfits really stand out. District One always look good in their bejewelled costumes and District Two always turn heads with some metal based collection. But the rest is pretty dull.

"Paisley," Cece says, sounding severe, "We are going to have to figure out how we are going to mentor these two kids."

I nod, "I know—"

"Chaye won't be able to look at you without ripping off you head. And she isn't too content with me either but we still have to give her a shot, do you understand that?"

"Yes, yes of course," Despite my reluctance towards Chaye, I don't want her to die. I don't want anyone to die.

"And I don't want to leave you to try and mentor Weyve on your own, because you're so new to this."

It sounds as if she is figuring out what to do as she is telling me. . .

"So. . . So I guess we can split them up and you can be like my shadow. Come along to the sessions and just listen and learn how to mentor for a while."

"Sounds like a plan," I say.

"Okay, then. The Opening Ceremonies are about to finish. I guess we better go meet with our tributes."

And so we do. Cece and I take an elevator up to the ground floor and go outside to where the horse chariots end their parade. Chaye and Weyve stand next to the chariots. Chaye looking displeased and Weyve busying himself with patting one of the horses.

"You did well," Cece says formally. Both of them tried to look strong and tall on their chariots, and even though they didn't collapse like I did- they still didn't look very intimidating. Cece is just trying to diffuse any growing tension.

"Thanks," Chaye snipes, pushing past Cece and striding into the building. Cece purses her lips and stalks after her, leaving Weyve and me behind.

We both stand awkwardly, looking at each other.

"Um- um –Weyve," I manage.

"Hey," he says quietly.

"I'm- ah, um - I'm sorry," I say. Sorry for causing these Hunger Games. Causing him to get picked when he thought he was safe. Sorry that Chaye is taking all the attention from him. Sorry for a lot of things.

'For what?" he says. He knows . . . but he wants me to say it.

"For creating these Games."

"You didn't create them though, The Capital did. They used you as an excuse."

"But you still blame me," I point out.

"Yeah. . . I do. But it is hard not to." He struggles with his words. "But I know that you didn't mean to and- and I am trying to remember that. . .You don't want to be here as much as I do." He strokes his hand down one of the horses necks and keeps his eyes away from me.

Cece told me that he had no chance in the Games. He is tall but he is skinny, no muscle, no fat. Cece thinks that he is properly a fast runner, but that's all he has going for him. I can't help but agree. And the way he stands . . . his slumped shoulders and down-trodden expression- it seems he has already given up.

I want to tell him to keep thinking positive and not to give up but it's hard to give someone false hope. But I do give him a small bit of advice. "Don't let Chaye get to you. . . don't let her overshadow you."

* * *

><p>"What is <em>she <em>doing here?" Chaye demands as I sit down slightly behind Cece.

"_She _is your mentor Chaye. _She_ has every right to be here." Cece replies

"But she is twelve! I'm eighteen! You can't honestly expect me to listen to her. Not when she caused this to happen!"

Cece shakes her head. "Age does not matter here."

"What is she supposed to be able to teach me. . .she basically cheated her way into win—"

"—_cheated_? You think she _cheated_?" Cece leans closer to Chaye. "Tell me, Chaye, of all the tributes in the 66th Hunger Games, who is the only that lived?"

Chaye folds her arms in refusal.

"And tell me, what is the one and only rule in the Hunger Games?"

She is silent once more.

"And finally, do you think Paisley would be sitting here if the Capitol thought that she _cheated_?"

Chaye looks away.

Cece points at me, "_She _was smart enough to find a way to survive. _She _was smart enough to use what was around her to kill. _She _was smart enough to become victor. So I would have to say that she has a lot to teach. Stop complaining, because she may be twelve but she was able to kill people older than her. . . people who were your age."

Although I guess what she is saying is a compliment, it makes me feel hollow.

Chaye fights the urge to retort by instead she slumps in her chair, admitting defeat.

"Right." Cece says. "Now that is over and done with. . ." She launches into mentoring. Strategies, angles, advice. I don't say anything. I just listen trying to take in as much as possible. Chaye is reluctant but nods and gives Cece the answers she wants.

In the end, Cece decides that Chaye won't have to act much. She is going to be fiery and blunt- which won't be too hard. She is going to try and intimidate the younger and smaller tributes to catch the eye of the Gamemakers who will be assessing her. But she is going to lay low around the Careers- she doesn't want them to think she is a threat that they need to eliminate.

After a couple of hours Chaye leaves and Weyve comes in. His shoulders still slumped and head down.

He is to learn as much as he can. Survival- not fighting. He isn't strong enough to fight. He will do better if he sticks to fires and knots. Of course- he needs the fighting, he needs if it he wants to live. But all three of us know he won't so we don't bother.

The thing is, Chaye actually has a chance- although slim- she is a fighter and she is not one to give up. She has an unquenchable fire inside her that is going to keep her going- even if it is fuelled by anger and her hatred of me- it is something. Something that will help her survive.

But Weyve. . . He has given up. And it's hard to help someone when they don't want to help themselves.

"You will learn some good things at shelter building. Shelter is important," Cece suggests.

"And-" I begin. I haven't said anything throughout the whole session so Cece and Weyve look surprised. But I have some advice for Weyve that he might find useful. "During my training I went to the strategy station. There is an old man there- named Elden- if it wasn't for him I would have never been able to win. You should go there- he is helpful."

Cece bites her lip. I can tell she is like the Gamemakers- Elden told me they think the strategy station is a waste of space. Cece won her Games by brute force- not strategically thought out moves. She thinks it's pointless. But I know that what Elden teaches is invaluable.

"Well. . . yes. I guess you could go there too. If you have time."

I think of Elden and remember his grey balding head and crinkled face. If it wasn't for him I truly would have been dead. And I never thanked him.

"Get a good night's rest," Cece says. "You have to be up early tomorrow for Training."

Weyve nods before slouching to his room.

I turn to Cece, "Hey, what do the trainers do during the time the Games aren't on?"

Cece scratches her chin, "Uh, well they get paid quite a lot for their training- they are the best in the business so they don't need to have outside jobs. But during the Games they are advises and stuff, the Capitol interviews them and get their thoughts on tributes fighting techniques."

"And what about before the Games?"

"Well, I'm sure they are all down in the Centre getting ready for tomorrow. A lot of Victors go down there and play with the weapons. Mostly the Career Victors. But I am going down there soon if you want to come?"

* * *

><p>An hour or so later Cece and I are stepping out of the silver elevator and into the Training Centre which is buzzing with life. It's so different to what I remember happening in the Training Centre. . . where everyone is quiet and nervous- trying not to attract attention and busying themselves in learning survival skills. Instead the stations are bubbling with Victors chatting to each other and the trainers, play fighting and throwing spears. Everyone is having a great time. People socialising, laughing, joking.<p>

Cece grins, "I'm heading over to the knife throwing station." Her eyes are alive and I still find myself struggling to adjust to the fact she is so different here in the Capitol. She goes from the caring affectionate mother to a child infatuated my shiny knives. It's so easy to forget that she won the Games once- not when she is giving Baize a bottle or tucking Lacy into bed.

Cece strides over and a tall dark victor from District Eleven attaches herself onto her- they instantly erupt in conversation.

I'm left to my own devices. I make my way across the floor to the strategy station. As I walk I am intercepted by a tall bronze haired boy.

"Hey," he says. His tanned skin and muscles suggest he is a District Four Victor.

"Hello," I say, slightly intimidated.

"I'm Finnick," he says, holding out his hand. "I won the Games last year."

"Paisley," I inform him, giving him an apprehensive shake. "You are a young Victor."

He raises an eyebrow, "Not as young as you. I'm fifteen."

"Still a young age to win the Games," I say. "Not many fourteen year olds would be capable of killing twenty three kids."

"Well when you train it is easier."

Finnick is a Career. They train their whole lives for this. Just like Eris and Cobalt and Charm from my Games. They were all blood thirsty brutes.

Finnick notices my expression, "You know, we don't all do it because we like torturing others. Sometimes we have other reasons."

He doesn't tell me his reasons but his comment makes me think. That maybe they aren't all agro sociopaths. There could be hundreds of reasons why they train- why they risk their lives.

"Smart thing you did in the arena." Finnick says, moving the topic onwards. 'You know, I actually set the record for the shortest Hunger Games until you came. Just over a week and a half."

"Well then," I say, smiling a little, "I guess I smashed that record."

He smiles too. "Yeah, well done on that."

"Thanks," I say.

"Have you come down here to vent?"

"What?"

"Vent? You know, vent out anger, frustration, annoyance. That's why most mentors come down here. Sick of their bloody tributes. Personally I can't stand mine. The boy is a no hoper and the girl . . . man she needs a punch in the nose. But I just like hitting up the trident station."

"Uh- no, I just came down here to see one of the trainers."

"Well, if you want feel free to come and throw the trident with me. We young ones need to stick together."

I laugh, "Yeah, maybe I will." Finnick nods and strides away.

I continue on my way to the strategy and I am intercepted by a few other Victors who introduce themselves. "We Victors need to be close" they all say, "Just seeing who the new member of the crazy family is."

I finally make it there after a good hour of forced conversation. And Elden is there, eyes glued to his tattered notebook that is all too familiar.

"Elden," I say grinning widely.

Elden is surprised and looks up with a jump. When he realises who I am he smiles wide- crunching the wrinkles in his cheeks. He leaps from his seat and gives me a hug. "I am _extremely _glad to see you, Paisley."

"Me too," I say. "I never thought I would see you again."

He shakes his head. "I knew you would be back. I knew somehow. I am very proud of you. Even I would have never thought of something as smart as you did."

I have noticed that no one refers directly to what I did in the arena. They always hint at it but never actually say it. I think it is because it is odd to say 'I particularly liked how you blew everyone into smithereens. _Inspired_"

"It was because of you that I thought of it. If it wasn't for you. . ."

"No. No, I assure you, it was all you," Elden insists. "A few strategies from an old man isn't enough to inspire such brilliance."

I blush, "I wasn't sure it was going to work. . . it could have killed me."

"It is good the risk payed off, isn't it?"

"I guess."

"Although, I did think that maybe I would be fired after it. Seeing as the only thing you did during training was talk to me. I thought the Gamemakers would have thought I told you to do it."

"But they didn't?" I ask. It seems like something the Capitol would do.

"Well, they haven't even come to talk to me about it. Which I thought they would at least do. Maybe they are busy- they had to locate a brand new arena for these new Games."

"That's . . . strange," I conclude. "I mean, they aren't happy with me about it. I thought they would have put all their effort into finding out as much could about my motives."

"As did I."

We sit in silence for a few minutes before I take in a deep breath and pose a question. "Elden, do you think that you could look out for Weyve? He seems like he has given up. And I know that when I had given up, you gave me a little hope. Do you think that you can do that with him?"

Elden frowns, "Are you sure you want to give him hope? Hope is a fragile thing to give someone in his position."

"Hope is strong," I tell him. "Hope will make him appreciate these last few days he has left. I don't want him to waste them like I did. He needs a little hope, no matter how false it may be."

* * *

><p><em>Lol. Didn't know how to finish the chapter, so I just did. <em>

_Hey, next update may be delayed. have a bloody monologue to do for theatre which i have to learn. Joan of Arc, what up._

_Until next time- May the force be with you._


	17. Let the Games Begin

_Here is another chapter- finally._

_I've had exams. And been working. So I've been too busy to update. It's School holidays soon so hopefully that will mean more chapters!_

_Thanks for the reviews that made me want to get this chapter up!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 17- Let the Games Begin<strong>_

The week passes quickly. Weyve gets a 4 in his training whilst Chaye pulls an adequate 7. The interviews were passable put not enough to pull a lot of sponsors. Weyve has said that the Careers are already psyching him out. Bullying him, teasing him. They will find him an amusing kill in the arena.

Chaye, on the other hand, has managed to find some talent in hand on hand combat. She is fast and agile. And Cece feels like her pure fight is going to be able to win her a week or two of life. She can't win but she_ is_ a contender. Apparently there is also a boy from Seven- big hefty guy who has exchanged a few words with her. Hinted that they could become an alliance. Cece didn't really know what to make of that and told her to steer clear- Seven and Eight have always had a bit of a troubled relationship- mentors and tributes don't usually get along. But Chaye says she is keeping her options open.

Last night we had to say our last goodbyes. Chaye was happy to be rid of me, swearing at me and telling me to go to hell. Weyve was apprehensive but gave me a half smile- still struggling to try and not blame me for this.

"I'm going to do everything I can to keep you alive," I told him, trying to reassure both him and me. But we both know it is an empty and pointless comment. I still feel uncomfortable in this superior role when I am several years his junior.

Now Cece and I are back in the Control Room. With all the screens buzzing black- not giving us any indication of what our tributes are going to be facing. Cece holds a touch screen that she slides her finger across.

"Chaye has a few sponsors on her side, enough for some medicine or a knife. We shall see what she gets in the bloodbath and go from there. Weyve hardly has any- couldn't buy him a stick with these funds."

"Mm," I say anxiously, watching the timer that tells me there are 5 minutes until launch. I can imagine Weyve and Chaye- stiff and rigid. Mouths dry. Dressed in the clothes they will die in. Unable to talk. The moisture on my tongue recoils as I think about them; I know what they are going through.

One of the screens has pictures of all the tributes in their rankings. Their ages, weights and heights accompany the photos as well as the odds, the betting prices, the statistics. Caius- Eris's brother from Two- is ranked number one. With a 1 in 3 chance of winning. My eyes have to scroll down far until I find my tributes. Chaye is ranked 8th- which is not too bad. But Weyve is 19th- his odds indicated he has a 1 in 58 chance of winning.

"Two minutes" Cece says looking up at the main screen which now turns on. The audience have two minutes to get a view of the arena. Commentators appear who will guide the audience through, explaining the aspects of the arena. Then the screens become an orange-red hue when the arena appears. It is not the frozen wasteland that I had. But the opposite. A desert. Hot and dry. Sand stretching on for miles. No trees- only small sticky shrubs scattered around the landscape. Rocks and dunes. No visible water.

The Cornucopia shines against the red. Weapons and supplies scattered around it.

The camera zooms out and the commentators voice appears. "Now the tributes are going to have a hard time in this arena. A lot of obstacles to overcome, isn't that right, Jade?"

Another woman's voice replies, "That is most certainly right, Alec. Although they aren't being shown now there are only a few small water springs scattered in the arena, meaning that water is going to be an issue. And the lack of trees is also a problem for cover."

The man talks again, "At least we will be assured some entertainment in full view, hey?" he says laughing and Jade echoes him.

"One minute until the tributes launch." A voice informs.

The camera stretched even further- showing jagged cliff faces and steep gullies. Small dams and oasis are scattered far away from each other and are small. We see a few creatures seeking shade under shrubs- thorned lizards and snakes painted in warning colours. I shiver looking at the screen as it flicks back to the Cornucopia- the gold metal blinding as it reflects the blistering sun.

_'Launch time,_' says a robot. And in unison the 24 tributes rise from the ground. Heads swivelling and lungs heaving. Beads of sweat already forming on brows from the heat. There is a collective _click _as the plates lock into place. . . then silence.

_60. . .59. . . 58. . . 57 . . ._

A minute always seems to pass so quickly in everyday life. But now it drags on. Every second taking its precious time. Savouring the moment.

A camera flicks to the faces of every tribute for a few second each- taking in their reactions. But I don't watch the main screen- I watch my screens- the ones dedicated to the Tributes of District Eight.

It turns out that us Tributes aren't told exactly what the trackers in our arm do. I always thought they just traced our position but it turns out they do more than that. They take heart rate, blood pressure, water levels and a whole lot of other stuff that I don't understand. They measure levels of adrenaline and poison and can measure the _exact _time a heart stops beating. . .

At the moment Chaye's adrenaline levels have skyrocketed. Her eyebrows slanted and her knees bent ready to run- she is determined and not showing any cracks. But Weyve is breaking. His heart is pounding but hardly any oxygen is getting to his muscles. Knees wobbling and hands trembling. Lights are already flashing and beeping as they signal that he is in trouble.

_Boom!_

Chaye leaps off and snatches a pack that is a few meters from her. She barrels forward. Her fast legs blurred as she runs. I hadn't seen her run before- I knew she was fast. But not this fast.

She gets to the Cornucopia second. Right after the boy from One. But he is too busy trying to locate his weapon of choice to bother about Chaye who grabs another pack, a thin axe, and is sprinting away.

"She's going to make it today," Cece says with relief. Chaye has extended her life just that little bit longer.

But Weyve. He is stumbling. He knows he can't leave the bloodbath empty handed but he has left any plan to run away way too late. He shuffles forward and fumbles over a small shoulder bag. He manages to secure it and pushes to take off but is pulled back roughly by the scruff of his top.

And it's over.

I want to close my eyes and cover them with my hands . . but I'm a mentor now. This is my job. To learn how to deal with the deaths of my tributes and learn from my mistakes. Cece doesn't seem to be struggling like I am. She is downtrodden and broken, of course, but she doesn't flinch or whimper. She lived this. She _is _living this. She knows how to deal with it.

So a set my jaw and force myself to look at the screen.

The girl from District Four stands over Weyve- the one that Finnick said he wanted to punch. I know why now. Her appearance is positively bratty. Like an annoying whiney school girl. She is kicking Weyve. Hard. In the face. Blood splattered against his broken nose. The metal tip of her combat boots smashing into his skin. Splitting and cracking it like wax. He is out cold but she continues to butcher him.

"Can't we do something!? We need to do something!" I yell, desperately searching for something. . . anything that can aid Weyve.

"There is nothing we can do, Paisley," Cece says- defeated.

"Finish him!" A Career yells from a few meters back from Weyve who is busying himself with the girl from Three. "Plenty more where he came from."

The Four girl shrugs and lets her foot sit still as she pulls out a sword and drives it into his neck.

All the screens on Weyve's side turn blank.

Cece sighs. "I guess that's that."

_I guess that's that!_

. . .And then I want to yell and scream and swear at Cece from dismissing Weyve's death like that. For waving it off like she had accidentally burnt toast or left the heater on. Like it all was just some misunderstanding but it doesn't really matter. An accident. And I want to kick her and punch her and hurt her. But she is right. It's over. There is nothing we can do. And in the end really. . . it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter to anyone that _matters_.

* * *

><p>"That's that," I repeat. Empty.<p>

Ten tributes are dead in the bloodbath. Chaye has travelled the furthest from the Cornucopia and hasn't stopped once, not even to check her packs. She is looking for water. And since she started she hasn't found a drop. . .

"Can we send her a bottle of water?" I suggest.

"No," Cece says without stopping to think. "She will find some. She is only a few kilometres away from a dam."

"But she's dehydrated. She's been running all day. . . and in that heat. She'll be dead if she doesn't get some."

The screen says that her water levels are extremely low. Her heart rate is dropping and she can't catch her breath. Her legs are begging her to stop and rest but there is a glint of determination in her eyes that won't stop until she finds water.

"Paisley. I've been doing this for longer than you. Trust me. If we buy her water now she won't have money for anything in the future."

I want to persist with my argument but a few hours later I see that she is right. It is getting dark but Chaye manages to find a small shallow dam to drink from. Here she finally decides to unzip her packs and pulls out three drink bottles that she fills to the brim.

"She needs to purify the water," Cece says rubbing her temples. But Chaye is too thirsty and ignores the water cleaning drops and dives her face into the dam.

". . . too late now," I say.

Cece groans, "Arg. She is too impulsive. She doesn't _think!_"

"It's just some water. . . it won't kill her."

Cece shakes her head. "_Yes,_ it could kill her. It isn't clean. It could be infected."

"_Oh_," I whisper. I can't believe how much I have to learn. . .

"I just hope she has enough patience to purify the bottles."

And she does. After gulping down litre after litre with her hands, Chaye drops the water purifier into all three of her bottles and swishes them around before waiting a half hour to sip at them. She always has her eyes darting around in their sockets- constant looking out for danger. And the way she bites her lip makes me feel like she is thinking of moving.

"She isn't going to stay there tonight," I comment.

"No. She is being smart. . . for once. Staying near the dam would make her an easy target. Everyone in that arena is looking for water and she has enough to last her for tomorrow. She needs to keep moving."

So she does. She puts all her supplies back into her pack- a few packets of biscuits and dried fruit, a torch, a thin blanket, a beanie, sunscreen, some matches, some painkillers and antibacterial. A pretty good haul. Then she begins to walk onward. Her thin axe balanced in her hands. She holds it uncomfortably. Tossing it back and forth between her hands, unsure of how to wield it properly. She is lucky to have obtained a weapon like this- with most tributes only being able to scrap a small knife or slingshot- but she is inexperience. She doesn't know how to use an axe at all. She isn't from Seven.

She finds a cluster of thick shrubs a good distance from the dam- enough to make sure anyone that finds the dam won't find her. As the last shards of sun fall behind the sand horizon Chaye settles herself down and wraps her blanket around her. I glance over at one of the screens that says that the temperature is rapidly dropping. Chaye begins to shiver and pulls out the beanie that she fits snuggly onto her head. She holds her axe close to her as she closes her eyes to sleep.

Soon she is shivering and teeth are chattering.

"Should we send her something?" I ask.

Cece sighs, "Paisley, you can't suggest we send something every time something bad happens. All the money in the Capitol still won't stop the hardship Chaye is going to go through in the arena. She is going to suffer no matter what we do."

"But she might freeze to death!"

"No she won't. . . at least not tonight. The Gamemakers will keep her cold enough to have a rough night but not cold enough to kill her."

"Can't she light a fire?"

"She might as well get a huge sign saying 'kill me' if she lights a fire."

I sigh; exhausted by my own stupidity.

"Alright, I'm going to sleep," Cece declares, "You can take first watch. Nothing interesting is going to happen now- Gamemakers need to give people some time to make bets and collect money. Wake me up in a few hours and we can swap."

I nod and Cece leaves to go into the adjoining room that has the beds in it.

I turn to the screens and begin to play around with the buttons. On the touch screen pad I can control what comes up on the main screen and zoom into see different parts of the arena. One by one I sift through the tributes- checking their whereabouts and inspecting their condition.

All the Careers are alive- all with small and worriless wounds. A few cuts here and there, nothing to be concerned about. They have found an oasis quite far out from the cornucopia to set up camp and they guard their supplies and the water's edge constantly.

A girl from District Five hides in a hole she spent the afternoon digging out- she got hit by a career with a mace and her shoulder is mangled- blood coating the savaged skin. Bones are broken and she winces with every movement- it was a miracle she managed to make it out of the Bloodbath. She won't last the week.

The Six boy- like many- hasn't been able to find water. He is panting and clutching his throat- his tongue is sandpaper and his lips are like cracking concrete.

The boy from Seven has a bad cut on his front- stretching from his chest to his hip. He managed to wrap it up with some bandage he scooped up but without attention it'll get infected. I look at his location and take a quick breath when I see how close he is to Chaye. Only a few hundred meters away. And he has a knife. . .

A few of the buzzers on Chaye's side are going off- warning me that a tribute is getting close and she is in danger. I want to yell at her to wake up and get moving but she is curled up in a still ball- oblivious to her surroundings.

I consider waking up Cece but I shake my head at the thought. Because I need to start taking matters into my own hands and stop relying on other people for help. I zoom to the boy and pull up his information- his name is Lark, seventeen-years-old, scored a nine in training. Ranked number seven. Heavily built. Mean face.

I bite my lip as I watch him approach and scramble my hands across the keyboards and screens- trying to find a way to send Chaye something so she will wake up and realise the danger she is in. But I don't know how to navigate it.

More lights flash and the beeping gets louder as Lark gets closer and closer to Chaye. In her sleep she rolls over and causes the bushes around her to rustle. Lark's head snaps up at the noise and his head whips in the direction it came from. It's dark- but the moons light creates enough glow to be able to make out the figure of the bushes. Lark looks down at his hands and considers the knife he holds. After a few minutes he nods to himself and slinks his way over.

Panic settles in to my stomach and I begin to shake as I tap desperately on the screens. "CECE!" I yell, "CECE! HELP!"

Lark splits the bushes and peers down over Chaye who is still shivering in her sleep. He grins at the sight of her before grabbing the axe out of her loose grip and roughly yanks her off the ground. . .

* * *

><p><em>I've never really ended on a sort of cliff-hanger. They always really annoy me but I thought I would give it a go :)<em>

_New chapter up as soon as I can!_

_Guess who got tickets to the midnight screening of Catching Fire in the largest cinema in the world?- that's right, me! Flying up to Sydney to see it for my birthday! Happy 17__th__ Birthday Ashlee!_

_Current obsession- Thor. Seriously guys, Loki- how can such a beautiful person exist. Actually- I love everything Marvel. And Thor 2- so amazing. Seen it twice already. Seeing it again on the weekend. Bloody love it. _

_Peace out, Girl Scout._


	18. Allies

_YAY FOR UPDATING!_

_So! WHO HAS SEEN CATCHING FIRE?! DID WE ALL COLLECTIVELY DIE!_

_I DID! SEEN IT TWICE ALREADY. TOO. MUCH. TO. HANDLE. _

_SO MANY DIRECT QUOTES. LIKE HOLY CRAP._

_BUTTERRRCUPPP! I WAS SO PISSED IN THE FIRST ONE! NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY THAT THEY CHANGED IT!_

…_.but on another note- Catching Fire basically made my entire story mute. Thanks Haymitch for saying that Finnick was the youngest victor ever. Basically destroying half the stories on Fanfiction._

_But let us go ahead and ignore that fact so this story can continue as if it never happened. _

_Note- I'm Australian. Meaning that we use Celsius to measure temperature. Which is why 40 degrees is hot. You'll understand when you read the chapter…_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 18- Allies<strong>_

Chaye's shriek is muffled by Lark's hand that he shoves roughly into her mouth. She kicks her legs and thrashes her arms but Lark has a steady hold on her and doesn't waver.

"_Shh!" _He hisses, "Do you want the whole world to hear?!"

Cece comes running into the control room, her hair wild and eyes wide. "Why didn't you call me sooner?" she says frantically, taking control of the screens and rapidly typing things into them.

I splutter- "I- I don't know! I- I didn't know w-what to do! I thought – I thought I could handle it!"

I can't take my eyes off the screen as Chaye continues to squirm in his clutches. "Will. You. Be. Still!" Lark manages as he begins to struggle.

"_Never!_" Chaye spits when Lark's hand slips from her mouth.

Lark rolls his eyes then grabs Chaye by the shoulders and pushes her to the ground. He places his hands tight on her wrists and pins her to the dirt. He then pulls a short knife out from his sleeve and quickly and precisely cuts into Chaye's upper arm- splitting the skin in two. Chaye shrieks and trashes but Lark's hold is too strong on her

"Shut-up and listen, idiot." Lark hisses, "I'm not going to kill you."

But Chaye doesn't shut up. She continues to move around and yell. "Of course you are! I'm not falling for your trick!"

"No tricks," Lark assures, "I need your help."

"Why the _hell_ would I help you?" her arm is shaking with the pain of the cut and her forehead sweats.

"Because. Me and you. We are allies."

Chaye can't contain her laugh despite her evident agony, "_Allies?_ I'm pretty sure I rejected your offer back in training."

And I remember what Chaye told us- about how the boy from District Seven showed interest in being her ally but she declined. I guess he is still keen on the idea.

"Well, we are not in the Training Centre anymore. And this time you don't have a choice."

Chaye keeps a blank face as she blinks at him. I can tell that in her head she is going over her options- she can accept this alliance and stay alive for the night but she will have to watch her back- this Lark guy seems to have strange motives- forcing someone into an alliance after giving them a wound that can cause her to bleed to death. If she declines it's instance death. She really doesn't have a choice.

"How do you know I won't kill you?" she says.

"Because you need me," Lark says simply, "That cut is going to kill you- you'll die of blood loss. You have no idea how to use that axe of yours and you would be doomed if it came to fighting with it. I've grown up learning how to use an axe. I can look after you."

"And what's in it for you?"

"It is going to get lonely in here. And I don't fancy talking to myself."

Chaye raises and eyebrow- unimpressed with his answer but he doesn't elaborate.

"So, do we have a deal?"

Chaye pouts her lips and sighs, "Ah, like you said. . . I don't have a choice."

A huge grin spreads across Larks face. "Good!" He releases Chaye's wrist and she pulls herself into a sitting position. The strain on her arm causes Chaye to yelp and she curves her body around the cut.

"So, Sunshine, I am going to need a little help with something."

Chaye winces- at the nickname or the wound; I can't be sure. "_Sunshine? _Yeah, I don't think that's going to work out. The name's Chaye."

Lark waves it off, "I'm going to stick with Sunshine."

Chaye rolls her eyes- something I notice she tends to do a lot.

"Anyway, Sunshine, I need your help with something."

"What?"

"You're from Eight, right?"

"Right."

"Textiles, right?"

"Right."

"And you sew stuff, right?"

"I swear to god, if you say 'right' again I'm going to punch you so hard your teeth are going to bleed."

"You won't be able to punch with an arm like that." Lark grins and pulls a needle and a thread out of his pack. "But you can sew, can't you?"

"Why? Did you bring a quilt to sew to pass the time? Do you have some knitting needles in there as well?"

"No, I need you to sew this up," he says lifting his shirt revealing the blood soaked bandaged wrapped around his torso. Chaye's eyes widen momentarily but she regains herself and maintains an unreadable expression- she doesn't want to look put off by it. Lark searches her face for some sign of weakness or disgust but he finds nothing. "Not exactly a patchwork quilt."

"No indeed."

"You can sew it up, though?"

"Yes I can."

And so they spend the next hour cleaning and arranging the wound using Chaye's torch for light. Chaye doesn't want to but Lark makes her give him some of her painkillers and use her water to wash the cut. Although Chaye is acting like she is in charge- she is completely under the control of Lark. She can't refuse him or he will kill her.

Chaye stays completely calm and collected as she pierces his skin and begins to bring the two edges together with precise and perfect stiches using her good arm. The blood is thick on her hands and Lark's insides are horrid to look at- but she puts that aside and gets the job done.

When Lark is done Chaye turns her attention to her arm that she coats in disinfectant. She chugs back and few painkillers before she begins to stick up her own wound. The stiches aren't as perfect- but they do the job.

"This is good," Cece says scratching her forehead.

"How?" I ask, "This guy is going to kill her."

"No, no. He needs her- almost as much as she needs him. He would be dead by tomorrow night if he didn't get that wound stitched up. And he doesn't know anything about wounds and hygiene. Chaye learnt that in training- he must have noticed."

"I guess so. . ."

"Plus, he seems like a bit of a game player. Alliances make for interesting viewing. He probably thinks Chaye is an interesting character that that Capitol will like- her fire and snappiness. Their personalities complement each other. He is smart."

"But he will kill her in the end."

Cece frowns, "Let's just hope that Chaye kills him first."

* * *

><p>The sun is beginning to rise in the arena and I realise I haven't slept in nearly 24 hours. I take a last check of the tribute positions- all the tributes are far away from Lark and Chaye so I know I can sleep with a peaceful mind.<p>

As I drift off to sleep, I spare a second to think about Dot- as this is the busiest time of the year for parties and celebrations Dot has been taken out to serve and clean at the biggest venues in the cities. Even though he is meant to be my 'man-servant' the Capitol still have the most control over where he is and what he does. All the Avoxes in the Capitol are being worked hard around Hunger Games season.

By the time I wake up it is midday and Cece tells me that a girl from Twelve was killed by the Career Pack and the boy from Six is on his way out- he still hasn't found water and the sun is blaring down at 40 degrees. The Careers are getting the most screen time but it is interrupted by conversations between Chaye and Lark who deliver snappy and sharp comments at each other. After they both take turns napping and a hike back to the dam to refill water, they decide to pack up and keep moving out- increasing the distance between them and any other tributes.

Cece tells me she is going to take todays shift and I'll stand guard tonight. She says I need time to wind down after last night and sends me off to do whatever I want…As I walk down the hall I see all the control rooms for the other districts- some off the lights and TV screens have been turned off and doors locked up as both tributes have been killed. The mentors have already caught the train back home. District 12. District 5. District 9. All gone.

A few mentors are sitting around tables in the cafeteria. Laughing, chatting, playing cards. This must be where mentors come to get a break from the buzzing screens and flashing lights in the control rooms.

"_Hey!_" A girl shouts when I enter from one of the tables. She waves her hands and beckons me over. Her red hair is wavy and messy- left to curl around her face. She has freckly skin, deep blue eyes and a young face. Her tanned skin and muscles arms make it obvious that she is from District Four.

"Hi," I say as I approach.

"I'm Nerissa," she says, "Most people call me Nerri."

"Paisley," I say.

"Yeah. I know."

_Of course she does. _

"District Four," she informs me, "I won the 64th Hunger Games, I'm seventeen. Just thought I'd say hi and welcome you to the family."

"Thanks, it's great to be a part of it," I lie. For some reason I feel the need to be positive around her.

She laughs, "No need to lie, it's not exactly the most functional family." She gestures to some of the victors around us. They aren't exactly all in prime condition- a man sits on a far table with his head resting in a bowl of cereal- passed out. Another elderly woman sits on the floor in the corner obsessively folding and unfolding a piece of paper. "I'm still getting used to it but if you need someone to talk to- I'm here to help you out. I know it's hard to find a place to settle in."

I form a smile, "Thanks, that'd be nice of you."

She returns my smile and pats the seat next to her. I sit myself down and she offers me a packet of chips that I take gratefully. She begins casual conversation, congratulating me on my victory and asking what everyone asks me- how I came up with the bead idea. I almost robotically reply now because I am used to repeating it some much

As I talk it starts to sink in that this girl is from Four- a career District. But the smile lines in her face and her soft eyes and lips don't look like that of a killer. Looking around the cafeteria- a lot of the people here look as innocent and untouched by death as I do. How the evils of everyone can be hidden by a face and a smile astounds me.

I squirm in my chair at the thought of how many people have died in total from the people in this room. The only answer I can come up with is a lot- thinking of an exact number is off putting. The chip I chew on rolls uncomfortably in my mouth.

Nerri notices by discomfort immediately. "Do you want to get out of this place?"

I nod in relief and push myself up from my chair with speed.

She leads me out of the room and to the elevator which takes us to the bottom floor and out onto the streets of the Capitol. I have only walked these streets once- on my first day here with Dia and that day didn't end very well.

"Thought I could take you sight-seeing," Nerri says, "You'll be spending more time here than you want so you might as well get accompanied with it."

Nerri walks to the edge of the road that is busy with speeding colourful cars. She holds out her hand and a bright gold car pulls over almost instantly. Nerri walks over and says a few things to the driver before sliding into the back seat and waving me to follow.

"It's called a taxi. They take you wherever you want to go."

"Where do we want to go?" I ask.

"We are going shopping!" Nerri announces, "People will bother you when your dressed like that- too obvious you're a victor. But if you dress more like these people they won't even glance your way."

And she is right. When we get out of the taxi my plain clothes that are from District Eight instantly stand out from the vibrant frocks. People tap their neighbours and point in my direction. They follow behind me trying to be inconspicuous as they take photos and giggle to their friends. People come up and ask me to sign their hats or arms.

But after we buy some new clothes and change to match the hues of the Capitol no one even notices me. I blend in. My frilly yellow dress adorned with sequins doesn't stand out like you think it would. Instead it just becomes another colour adding to the rainbow that is the Capitol.

We continue walking down one of the main streets of the Capitol. On the walls of shops and projected onto buildings is a continuing coverage of the Games- so even if you are out and about you can still catch the latest death. At the moment they are recapping the deaths of the previous night- showing them in slow motion and at every possible angle. It's hard- but I try to block it out as much as I can. During our shopping the career pack managed to track down and kill a girl who was stupid enough to light a fire to cook some bird eggs she found. The commentators said that she deserved the death she got because of her stupidity.

As we walk Nerri insists on going into the most luscious shops and buying the biggest diamonds and most expensive necklaces. She uses the money of her winnings to load up on all the Capitol goods.

"If we have it, we might as well use it," she explains as she buys a solid gold bracelet covered in rubies.

As we go to leave the jewellery shop I notice something odd. In the centre of the store in a big glass cabinet is a podium that obviously displays the most important piece of jewellery this store has to offer. As I near it my jaw drops as I see a necklace on display. A simple beaded necklace. All the colours of the rainbow.

"Our best seller," the shop keeper purrs from behind me. "Anyone who is anyone is wearing this piece. Inspired of course, by that little Victor."

"How much?" I ask.

The shop keeper laughs, "Too much for you, little girl."

I exhale loudly, "You know, when I found this it was just on the ground. Someone dropped it Didn't cost me a thing."

"What are you talking about?"

I turn around and face the man, smiling. "The necklace. I found it on the way to the reaping."

The man's face drops as he looks past the clothes and tattoos and sees who I am. His eyes bulge as he begins to stutter and apologise. All I can do is laugh- because it's funny. Never in my life have I had someone falter over their words because of me.

Nerri begins to crack up and the man notices her and his face flushes red. It's not every day that you have two victors in your shop and you manage to ruin it.

"I'm sorry- I- I didn't know," The man stumbles.

I giggle and wave it off with my hand, "It's fine. Don't stress. But now you know I can afford it, do you think that maybe I could have it?"

"Yes of course."

A few minutes later I am leaving the store with a black gift bag in my hand holding my new necklace. I'm not sure why I even bought it really. Maybe because I missed it- missed it before it meant anything to anyone. When it was just this harmless string of colours that belonged to me and me alone. I didn't want it to be associated with this weapon that killed all those kids. I wanted it to be like it was before I got reaped. Just a beautiful pointless piece of jewellery that brought me happiness.

And now it was whole again and not scattered and covered in snow and blood. Maybe having it back to normal can help me forget.

* * *

><p><em>IF ANYONE WANTS TO TALK ABOUT CATCHING FIRE WITH ME PM ME AND WE CAN SCREAMMM TOGETHER!<em>

_Oh, and it was my birthday last week! HAPPY SWEET 17TH! still not old enough to drive or to be out of the reaping, but a step closer._

_Don't know when next chapter will be up. Finish school this weekend which means more time to write. _


	19. Undefeated

_SCHOOLS OUR FOR SUMMMERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR_

_I'll just let you read this chapter- longer than usual :)_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 19- Undefeated <strong>_

Chaye killed her first person today.

It was a boy. District Three. 14 years old.

He was washing off a cut he got in a river- not watching his back. Chaye and Lark spotted him from a distance and circled their way in- making sure he wasn't a threat. Because Lark was bigger he pounced on the boy and pinned him down so Chaye could lodge an axe in his chest. It sunk in deep and was held in strongly with his last breath. It took Chaye a few tugs before she was able to free it from between his lungs.

I question Cece about it- it was a disturbing death, merciless. It made my saliva thick and I had to swallow hard to get it moving down my throat. She said that Lark likes to play games and he wants to push Chaye to her boundaries. And the way they killed the boy really did push her. She hides it well but Cece points out the fractures in her façade; the tugging of her lips, obsessive stroking of a strand of hair, her tight band fast blinking- as if she is trying to get rid of something that only she can see. . . Lark is trying to crack her.

"Why?" I ask.

"It will be entertaining for the audience to see someone gradually lose it. And any time with her on camera is time where he isn't being tortured for the Capitols entertainment. He has thought this through."

I remember back in my Training Elden told me to do something like that- to entertain the audience in another way that doesn't involve your own suffering. Maybe Lark took some time to go and get some advice.

A part of me is glad that Elden is getting some pupils to train- because he is the reason I am alive. And he can help other people survive. But when his training is coming at the expense of my own tribute. . .

I begin to feel unnerved at Lark's dark intentions and I tug on my lip- as Chaye does. Cece is quick to notice and exhales loudly. "You know, Paisley, that Chaye is most likely not going to survive, right?"

Yes. I do know. "Good to see you are staying positive."

Cece looks at me carefully. "I'm being realistic. You have to face it. When I first started mentoring I kept a positive approach. But after years and years of losing people that I kept my hopes up for- well, then it becomes hard to stay optimistic. I just think that you should face facts."

"But she is doing well. We are a week in and there are only eleven tributes left, she has a chance."

Cece covers he eyes with her finger tips and shakes her head. She doesn't say anymore, instead she turns on her chair and starts pushing buttons and pulling up statistics. Chaye's kill sent her sponsors rocketing and now she has enough money to rely on if something bad happens. She is ranked 9th in the polls. Lark is 7th and all the careers occupy 1 to 6.

All the tributes from 5, 9, 11 and 12 are gone. The Careers are tracking down tributes by the day- following the obvious tracks made in the sand that are hard to cover up. Chaye and Lark have been sticking to the bushes where their tracks and masked more. The Careers are fairly distanced from them and haven't caught sign of them.

That was- until Chaye killed the boy from three.

Killing off a tribute is sought of a blessing and a burden in the way that you get rid of another opponent but you also give away your position to everyone in the arena. The giant hovercraft that collects the body gives you enough time to get some distance but not enough to completely rid yourself from the area.

The moment the cannon goes off the Careers heads snap up and they circle around as they scan the skies. After a few minutes the hovercraft picks up the boy's body and the pack are sprinting in that direction.

Even though some deaths in the arena are from natural causes -like dehydration- or a caused by the Gamemakers, the Careers always go to the sight of the killing.

Chaye and Lark are also running. Chaye is a lot swifter than Lark- whose bulkiness and size slow him down. But they are still making good distance. The only problem is that they have made no effort to cover their tracks. In their mad dash to get away they have neglected hiding themselves.

It's getting dark when the Careers finally make it to the dam where the boy was killed. There is enough light from them to see the scuffle marks and blood splatters but not bright enough for them to be able to follow the tracks effectively.

"There are two of them," Caius states as he examines the tracks with the aid of a torch. "Someone has teamed up."

"Bet you it's the big Ten and Seven boys," The girl from Four interjects.

"Nah, Ten said he wasn't interesting in an alliance. Stupid git."

"Then who's left?" The girl from One asks.

"Three girl, Seven boy, Eight girl and Ten boy," One of the Careers lists off.

"One of them is a boy- footprints are too big for a girl."

` "So Seven and Eight then?" The Four boy concludes. "Three is too wussy to align."

"Must be," Caius says, "Although those District usually have a pretty rocky relationship."

It's true. Seven and Eight detest each other. Our District hates the advantage Seven gets in the Games- they know their way around an axe whereas all we get is a needle and thread to arm ourselves with.

"So tomorrow we set off to kill two birds with one stone, right?" The boy from One asks.

"Right," Caius agrees.

The main camera flies from the Careers conversation to Chaye and Lark who have found a cluster of bushes to set up camp for the night. The monitors show the distance between the two groups- there is less than a 20 minute jog from the Careers to the pair. If they don't leave early enough in the morning the Careers will catch up to them.

"Do you think they are coming after us?" Chaye asks.

"Without a doubt," Lark replies, "It's the way they are taught. Best way to locate their tributes. They do it every year."

"We should get some rest," Chaye says- hinting at Lark that he should take the watch.

But Lark isn't going to let Chaye have it easy. He is still trying to push her… to break her. "You take first watch," He says, "I'm tired."

Chaye wants to argue but she can't. When you break it down Chaye is effectively Lark's prisoner. He has control over what happens.

So Chaye reluctantly agrees and he does what he has been doing every night- pulls out some rope and ties Chaye's arms behind her back. Chaye struggles as she has every night but Larks strength is too much for her- even in his fatigued state. "Can't have you offing me in the middle of the night," Lark recites as he fastens the rope to the stump of one of the thicker bushes.

It's hard to watch Chaye sit there, basically defenceless. All she can do it yell if danger comes and hope Lark wakes up quick enough to save her. But if it came down to that he would probably just run and leave her; tied up, hopeless and completely at the mercy of her killer.

The cameras keep a close watch on her and the commentators notice the twitching in her eyes and obsessive biting of her lip. They use the word 'unhinged' a few times and notice her unsteadiness. The Capitol are taking note of Chaye's decline into insanity and it is going to keep the audience watching.

* * *

><p>After a few hours Chaye nudges Lark with her foot and he wakes up and they swap shifts. Lark unties her and she finally gets to lay down and sleep.<p>

Her slumber is instant but not calm. She thrashes and cries. Her eyes squeeze tightly as she wills her nightmares to go away and her hands are in fists so tight that there is blood on her hands. For a while Lark tries to sooth her but he soon gives up. He is still tired- the minimal sleep was not enough to revive him and soon he is drifting off to sleep.

"No one is on watch," I say, "What if the Careers come."

But the cameras on the Careers show all but 1 are sound asleep. As long as Chaye wakes up before everyone else she will be okay.

And she does wake up. One of her dreams petrified her so much it caused her to shriek and jolt into the upright position. Her eyes are wide, frantic and panicked. She looks over to Lark to find him asleep- not at all stirred by her noise.

"Oh no," Cece says; the first words she has utters in a long time.

"What? What is it?"

Cece doesn't reply. But after a few moments I understand. A close up on Chaye's face show her eyes unfocussed and dazed and she gets an idea. They soon snap into attention and they dart from the thin axe in Lark's hand to his sleeping face. I know what she is going to do. Cece knows. The world knows.

"Don't do it," Cece says. Begs. Pleads. "Please don't do it."

But she does do it. She takes the axe gently out of his loose grip. She swallows hard and she brings up the axe. Then, with the precision of an executioner, she lets the axe swing right through the neck of the Boy from Seven.

He doesn't have time to open his eyes before his cannon rings out.

All the Careers are awake in an instant. Gathering their weapons and skimming the sky for the hovercraft that will be picking up Lark's body.

The cannon also wakes up Chaye. Wakes her up from her daze and brings her to her senses. She snaps out of the state she has been in and it dawns on her. The stupidness of her actions are realised.

"She is going to die," Cece says, defeated.

It's not hard to figure out why. The Careers were already close enough to find her but now she has given away her position again. There is enough light for the pack to begin their pursuit. Even Chaye's speed won't hold up for long. And she has lost her protection. Lark knew how to use that axe and Chaye hasn't a clue. She is a goner.

But in staying true to her undying stubbornness- Chaye does not accept that. She smacks herself in the head as she gathers up her things and begins to run. The Careers are running too- not as fast but still on her trail- following the tracks that have not been concealed. They bicker with each other about who is dead and who is going to take the next kill.

When Chaye has gotten a fair distance from Lark's body the hovercraft comes down and the Careers alter their path slightly to a more direct route.

"What do we do?! What do we do?!" I frantically ask.

Cece shakes her head sadly, "Nothing we can do."

I begin to get angry. "Don't say that! That isn't good enough! Chaye isn't giving up and we shouldn't either! We owe it to her- _I _owe it to her!"

"Paisley. Listen. We can't send her anything that can help."

"A weapon? Something she can long distance. A bow?"

"She doesn't have the experience- it wouldn't do her any good."

"A crossbow then! Anyone can point and shoot one of them."

"They are too expensive, Paisley!" Cece is beginning to get upset. "You think I don't want to help her?! You think I like having no control and have to sit back and watch her die because I can't do anything about it! Because I don't! I _hate _it, Paisley. I _hate _it. Every night I dream of all the tributes I lost. They come to me every_ fricken_ night to tell me I failed them. That I killed them. And every year I see more. Because even when I am at home they are still my tributes. I still have responsibility for them. I see Titch. I see his limbs blowing off and his face telling me I failed him. I saw Weyve last night. He told me I was the one who stabbed out his neck. I see them all. And tonight I will see Chaye. Because I can't do anything to stop this." Chaye gets up out of her chair and leaves the room without another word. Down the hall I hear doors slamming and things smashing.

A weight drops into my stomach and I want to curl up and cry. I feel so guilty- for forcing Cece to come out like that. I pushed her and she had no choice but to explode.

My mouth goes dry and I feel tears starting to well up. All this pressure is getting to me and I want to go to sleep- to a dreamless sleep. I don't want to have to think about any of this. I want to go home. I want to get away.

Just as my tears are about to spill over I hear the door open and shut loudly and a person march in.

A girl several years older than me comes storming up to me with her finger pointed. She is small and thin but it doesn't stop her from scaring the life out of me. She is a victor but I don't know her name. Her eyes are fiery and deadly and her overpowering presence forces my tears to sit still.

"Listen to me, girl," She snaps, "You are _not_ going to cry. And you are _not_ going to freeze out. _You_ are going to turn around on that chair. _You_ are going to face those screens and _you_ are going to watch your tribute. And hell! You are probably going to watch them die. But you need to do it knowing you did what you could to make her death matter! _Don't _be like Cece who piles all this guilt on herself. Don't be one of those Victors who can't take the heat."

I am too stunned to say anything. And even if I could I wouldn't know what to say. This girl who I have never spoken to in my life has barged in here knowing I was about to break down. And she has told me to toughen up.

"You are going to be doing this for years, you know. And it doesn't get easier. But it happens. We can't change that. You just have to sit here and thank your stars that it isn't you in that arena anymore. Don't sit here and cry. Sit here and do something!"

With that she is gone.

Just like the cannon brought Chaye to her senses. This victor brought me back to the present. I spin around on my chair and pull up Chaye onto the main screen. She has stopped for minute to catch her breath and lean on a tree. She is sweating and hot and thirsty. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth trying to cool down.

I punch a few buttons on my screen and within seconds a big bottle of water is sent flying down in a parachute. Chaye grapples at it eagerly and looks up at the sky. "About bloody time," She says and I laugh a little.

The Careers have also stopped for water and to rest for a moment. But that is short lived. Because soon they are back running and Chaye is too. Chaye is fast but she is a sprinter not a distance runner. The longer she runs the slower she gets. The Careers are all super fit and can run at a steady pace for hours. They are slowly closing in.

Cece said weapons were too expensive but I check anyway. A crossbow is twice the budget- even before I bought the water. No money is rolling in because Career pack kills are always 'entertaining' and even gamblers sometimes prefer a good death even if it costs a few dollars.

Chaye is trying to keep her spirit but it is fading. When the Careers get her it will fade forever. When I think about it, it is not the loss of Chaye's life that I am dreading- because we never really got along. It's not the guaranteed gruesome death or the screams or the cheers of the Careers that I can't stand. It is the spirit of Chaye that is leaving the world. Chaye had it tough- she was dragged back into the Reaping after she survived it for so long yet she was able to hold on and be this stubborn girl who kept on fighting. It is the fire that is in her eyes that I can't bear going to waste.

_You are probably going to watch them die. But you need to do it knowing you did what you could to make her death matter!_

The line sticks in my head. What the victor said. I need to make Chaye's death matter.

I go back to the screens and scroll through the lists of possible gifts to send Chaye. But what I want isn't there. I have to go into the data base and look it up and put in a request. The request is instantly accepted and soon a package is floating from the sky and into Chaye's hands.

Her eyebrows rise when she sees it. What could it possibly be? She unties the strings and opens it up. The contents bewilder her for several moments but soon it clicks. A pen and paper.

Chaye sits down on the sandy ground and crosses her legs in front of her. She pulls out the pen and paper from the package and poises the tip to the pad. These are going to be Chaye's last thoughts and last chance to let her spirit live on through her words.

As she begins to write the main camera that the entire nation sees flicks off Chaye and onto the Careers who are catching up. The Capitol have no idea what she is going to write, they can't risk the world seeing it. But I watch Chaye's screen and zoom the camera so I can see her words-

_By now I am on the road to death. And I am not scared. When they catch up I am not going to sit down and die. No, I could never do that. Of course I am going to fight. I won't let those bastards take me lying down. I am going to take down as many as I can before I finally fall._

_ But when I do, it won't be them who killed me. Mum, Dad, remember that when you see me die I am not being killed. Because you only get killed when you are fighting death. But I am not. I am embracing it. Because am not going to be defeated. You know me, Mum, when have I ever let you win an argument with me? When have I ever let someone have the last say?_

_ I am not going to let these pricks defeat me. I am going to defeat myself. I can live my last moments knowing that I always won. I'm going to die undefeated. _

_ There will be those who will say that I _was _defeated. That I am making excuses. I am talking to you Jakey. You are just as proud as I am. You could never let your big sister go out with any pride, could you? And maybe I am making excuses. I am stubborn and I won't accept being beaten. Jakey, remember that time you nearly beat me in checkers? You could never beat me but one day you were. You probably don't remember but I do. You had me stuck with nowhere to go but you didn't notice what you had. Any move I made would have meant complete annihilation for me. But I couldn't lose, not against you little brother. So I pretended that someone was knocking on the door and sent you to check. I switched the board and you never noticed. I still won. Even if I cheated, I still won. I always win._

_ I still win now. I don't get to become Victor and win a crown. But I still win._

She signs her letter, folds it up and puts in in her pocket. Not a single tear forms in her eyes. Her hands don't shake and she is as strong as metal.

* * *

><p>Chaye is leaning against a tree when the Careers catch up. She pulls out her axe and wields it in front of her. The Careers laugh.<p>

The Careers still don't have their breath but Chaye is completely rested. She is serene even. Peaceful. And her speed helps her now.

She is able to slice into the girl from Fours leg and take out a chunk from One girl's side. Both fatal injuries if not treated. Two of the Careers are out of the fight but the remaining Four close in on Chaye.

This is it.

But Chaye takes one final stand before she fully accepts her future. She picks the biggest guy. The one that is ranking the highest. The one that the Capitol is sure is going to win. Because she has nothing to lose. Caius. She sinks her axe deep into his chest cavity before she passes herself over to the rest.

She has caused too much damage for them to prolong her death. They make it quick. A knife to the heart. She falls instantly and the Careers leave her to die. She does one last thing before she goes. She takes the note from out of her pocket and sticks it to her chest with the blood- so the world has to see it when they pick her up. Then, with her final movement, she lifts up her hand and points it to the sky. She then, very deliberately, sticks up her middle finger and smiles.

* * *

><p><em>This chapter took on a mind of it's on. All these ideas came to me out of nowhere and it was awesome. Couldn't stop writing!<em>

_I think people can guess who the victor that came to talk to Paisley was._

_Also, when I first brought Chaye along I hated her. And I thought I would always hate her. But now I love her and I miss her and I am sad she had to die. But shit happens, life isn't always the way we want it to be._

_Off note- I read the Ender's Game yesterday. Good book. Seeing the movie soon too. Asa Butterfeild is God._

_Hopefully updating soon! _

_Much Love, __Ashlee_


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